Thursday, March 13, 2014


I twirl the plastic ring from the milk
Around the surface of the table.
The day is dark with fog through the picture window
My reflection is your ghost.

I used to be a mirror
The strands of our pale hair entwined
The fibers of our sweater sleeves
Felted themselves into tiny balls as we walked.

I spoke too much.
You, not enough.
Unless I count the dissenting voice in your head.
I heard it in the downturn of your mouth.

I dug a hole, built a burrow around us.
And like the mole in Thumbelina trapped the swallow,
I wanted to hide you in the dark.
You wanted the sky. You wanted escape.

So I wait for the small ring to move.
Just a small sign from you, my reflection.
My swallow. My sister.
Dear mouse.

Fiction today. I've been a bit obsessed with the novel Her Fearful Symmertry by Audrey Niffenegger. Here, I let one sister [character] mourn a change in circumstances.


  1. Ah. This is such a poignant poem--so particularly intimate with the pet names at the end. k.

  2. This is such authentic writing, which ranks highly with me when it comes to fiction. Your attention to detail creates such a real memory sequence for me - I could picture it all so clearly - which made the emotion at the end quite tangible.

  3. Tenderness and the weight of history lend a beautiful poignancy to your poem.

  4. Beautiful...I feel the weight of your words on a personal level

  5. caught me from the strong open and kept me through the taut entirety ~