You steal the light from the room, you peel the face
off the moon, you think you know reciprocity. We dance
to color the night, we spur the angels to flight, we descend
at high velocity. Don’t pretend that you don’t know me, I won’t
deny that you owe me, I know the mirror’s not free. You swerve
avoiding the damage, I stop the blood with a bandage, I tell
my reflection you’re me.
© Tina Zabielski 2011-2019
Very touching, I loved the opening lines and the images they create.
Thank you very much. This one wrote itself, I think I’d even left the room! 🙂
This is an absolutely beautiful poem in every way. I read it over and over and get new meanings each time. ~ Dennis
Thank you very much, Dennis. You know, I greatly value what you do and am tremendously appreciative of your blog. The poem I recently posted “His Story” is about a homeless man who was a friend of mine and a runaway boy I’d happened upon one morning. The homeless, like the mentally ill and the criminally convicted, are the cast-offs of every society. Nobody knows what to do with them, and they don’t want to think about them either. Kudos to you for giving them a voice. Thank you for visiting my blog. It means a lot.