Encounter

Convexed, I stand -- alone and laughable.

I laugh.

The blimp in the distorting mirror

laughs. (This time I hope

reflection lies!)

But what's that? A noiseless scarlet horror

is looming just behind me in the glass

heaving, bulbous, unbelievable.

The mirage hangs.... And yet I fear no act

of terror, for illogically I sense

out of this hideousness a miracle

a ghost of grace to spring from the grotesque.

What is this life?

Quickly I turn around. Distortion flies.

It's you, sweet wife,

wearing your scarlet dress!

We want to hear, did we miss an angle we should have covered? Should we come back to this topic? Or just give us a rating for this story. We want to hear from you.

Loading...

Loading...