Schism
"Where is the sun, where is the moon?"
the mirror asks.
He sees the silence in the other's gaze—
crouched against the wall
an empty face where once
two small diamonds burned
and cut in two
who once was whole
"Where is the blanket for the cold?"
the mirror asks.
He swipes a star
from far to balance on his outstretched hand
it tears a trail of blood
through fabric frail
and skin so thin below his ear
he stitches squares of dark
with sparks of warmth
to cloak against the night
"When will you make me whole?"
the mirror asks.
He strikes a match to light the star
and from his hand small grains bright sand
glimmer in the fickle white
he spills them on the floor
before his empty him
"I can't be us"
he says with faint apology
and buckled knees—
while in the other's eyes
life fades
without a fight
***
August 12, 2017
Copyright © Darren White
1st place in contest: The Poet's Shadow
Sponsor: Greg Barden
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