A slice of metal
as cool as an upside-down pillow.
That means I’m
going out. It is
entirely unlike a mirror,
its long arm full of prongs and crevasses
like the face of a chemical engineer,
who’s too old to care about protective suits.
An arm reaching into a sleeve,
gropes around and
looks for nooks
And with a series of clicks like some ancient machine,
David can move Goliath.
And here we are met by an audience of shoes and stairs,
(a sanguine sight to see).
Artwork by Rebecca Yeh
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Nah, time for Prose
Go back to Issue 2