MIRROR
By Tamryn Spruill
I.
Sunday mourns a gray-hooded sky. II. Crows squawk condemnation into the sun. Their inky black wings carry wishes,—weightless. She watches them ignite, rain down sparklers. III. Ash floats east to west, into the direction of her doom--a backward wind carrying anthrax, ricin--other life-affirming residue. IV. Destination travel for her struggles--the mirror into the secrets she never thought she’d keep. |
Copyright © 2012-2021 Tamryn Spruill.