Getting Your Wish by David Seth Smith


I say only what
the mirror leaves for me
hammering out diminishing
circles of context
in the periphery of speech
Getting your wish
peering into the dark
behind the eyelids
into the anti-verse
flickers of white noise
but so much more
useful darkness
putting the effort into
erasing every thought
before it forms
because it occurs to you
this was never about thinking
and if you labored under
that misconception
you picked the
wrong business to be in
you use words
because you’ve learned
to love them
but the writing of them
scoops them hollow, so
you are left with a chalk outline
of that love

and this is somehow correct
it’s as close as words are ever
allowed to get
to miracles
the cloud that looks
like a leaping deer
something that resembles
something else
something real
Tonight the mirror left me this:
A photo in the corner
of the frame
of beauty
suspended in
her gown and
crushed under
the terrible weight
of roses

©2018 David Seth Smith

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