Two-Way Mirror

Carol Carpenter

 

Then:

You called me Calliope

And heard with your lips.

Your hands

touched circus epics

until clowns tap danced

across the bridge

of your nose

in five seconds flat

and your quiet laugh

shattered crystal lies.

 

Now:

You smile through windows

as your eyes film

moon craters,

wait for volcanic lava

to harden

to petrify

before the steamy words

form droplets

on the glass

I cannot break.

 

Copyright 2007 by the Tipton Poetry Journal.

All rights remain the exclusive property of the individual poet and may not be used without their permission.

 

Return