The Mirror One Night
Last night I stood before
Lolo Enggoy’s mirror
When he died in April
I never cried
In the holes of my eyes
I jump
Into the suicidal cliffs
Of his death
Carrying with me my fingers
My hands
I travel where I come from
Where there are no footprints
Into blindness into nothingness
Into vast dark silences
I return to the surface
Of my eyes—
The mirror breaks to the floor
In a hundred bleeding piece
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!
No comments until now.