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Image by Xuan Nguyen

"Mirror and Shadows" and other work by M. Kelly Peach

Mirror and Shadows

In the inky shadows
a dark, frightened horse whinnies.
Pooh asks the question and I answer,
“What scars?”
I would rather
                    s
                     t
                      a
                      b


                      t
                      h
                      e
                 mirror.
A b
ridge unused spans
                    c
                    r
throeing shadows,

                    s
                    s
                    e
                    s
                over
and finds the
e
d
g
e.

With a razor      k
or shard of      r o   e
                   b         n 
                     mirror
would be neater,
except for the rush of
beckoning silver-black
c a n a l water.

The Plangent Whimperings (of my Youth)

          The grain has entered 

                                  my brain.

          Think I will apply some torque

          put it in a formula

                                 and crank it.

​

          I laid my head to

                                 your breast only

          and cried the tears all but missed.

          No longer ours, my hurt

                                speedily dried.

​

          It’s wine I like and wanting

                                somebody to help

          me drink my beer. I know I never 

          hunt, I just want somebody to walk

                                here in the woods.

​

          If behind them, each and 

                                every syllable,

          there be no truth, then surely

          are they just words? Merely

                               the air we breathe.

​

           The wound sometimes never

                               heals. I’m bleeding

           inside my head constantly but 

           all that shows is the red

                               in my eyes.

​

​

          We had a spring, our when all was

                               new and green

          and we had to know looking, all sources.

          The rills running clear and clean, 

                              down past the years.

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