Mirror

Shuke Zeng

Midnight blue
Indigo hidden wounds 
burst — 
The bed, simmering the past,
became an extremely patient lover.
The clock sat; its arms tick-tocked,
bullying the dreams until they crumbled.
Along the wall — 
Along the wall I groped
for the light cord, but tangled with a wisp
the color of the moon
like tiny shimmering silver fishes
nibbling their way up to trace the source, and finally— 

You — 
softness overflows a pool

        In the turning of a body:
        You watching           you
        You           watching you

The dressing mirror feigns a lovesick child.
Wallpaper smears the printed flora, flirtingly,
and solidly framed.
You watch yourself wither, a petal, another…
You don’t get to get out.

You get lucky, break free from several walls,
but you cannot break free from the days and years
that pile up behind you.

You women need no philosophy.
You women can shake off the shadows of the moon like
how dogs shake off water.

Draw close the thick curtain
The tongue of the dawn dampens the window
Head placed back to the sunken spot of the pillow
You scatter yourself
like exposed film.
Outside the window, the shivering walnut tree shrieks
disturbed by an ice-cold hand.