Shards of a hoary glass,
broken, lie at my feet.
The once elegant vanity tumbled
to the ground, shattering
the visage of every caller
she knew. Each old pair
of eyes cast across her face
smashed on the cheap carpet,
oh so far below. The sharpness
of each point, of every new
corner, catches my eyes, and
where they lie, reach up and slice
through my cornea, as far back as
my retina and into my frontal lobe.
I fall to pieces and hit the
floor, scattered about the room,
broken, lying at my feet.
ED
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