Shred

My 

xerox eyes

copy reflections

in a moment's mirror.

In fractions of a second,

a phosphorus smile will beckon

to the captured illlusions.

With frosty breath

it fogs the glass

till nothing can be read

except the memory

left of death,

the one I wish

that I could shred.

 





Poetry by melanie sue
Read 727 times
Written on 2009-08-07 at 02:08

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Achernar
Ah, the mirror, a mirror, always poses as a great and powerful back drop to any poem, and this poem is no exception, with its potent and wonderfully powerful and poignant last line.... great write!
2009-08-07


chuma okafor
Sweet!Highly impressive...
2009-08-07