ritualistic,
seven, multiplied by shadows
imps slither, murmuring
under the skin,
forced by a tune so low
terrifying
and calm
surreally cold beautiful
the hymn of parallel mirrors
with no common reflective medium...
each with its own sky
each tempted to fly
one to be broken,
the other to be woken
up by reality
scream its fragility
call out foul names
[enclosing childish games]
. . .
//possessive and unfair of me
to disclose the dreams of thee...//
[if only sounds would resonate, and both shatter
so our shards mix
another genesis
and bloom anew]
we have no common media
not a way to refract
the lights of the prism going through us
we cast our shadows
we stripped of context
we are transparent
but you are a beautiful refractory light
a clean ray of light
nothing could burn you down
me?
a mirror killing shape without a trace
i am a shape-shifter
i am unfurnished
i am...in process of peeling off the old layers
mind the shallow spikes
so your surface won't be harmed
