mirrors

09 May 2017

incantation
I was sleeping on a mirror, dreaming about
my drowned son when the tide came in
carrying me out to sea. Finlay woke me
knocking on the glass, was it his reflection
or the tattoo of his face on my back that he
saw?. Finlay appeared again in the glass
at the top the tree he used to climb, he held
a mirror with his face turned away in which
his reflection was drowning, then the tree became
wax but the fruit was real and vice-versa. angels
climbed branches of frozen lightning placing synthetic
tears on leaves helping me to rehearse this senseless
grief, angels left a letterbox without a door and on my
son's birthday the after-draft of wings flows lifting the
letterbox to reveal Finlay's eyes.

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