i was certain i’d left you
grappling with prose
in some foul place
where poets cure
with poison
and bad language

14 pseudonyms
pitching cursives
and smoking themselves
to folly
you were pumped
high on adrenaline
and rush

i saw you licking
all those memoirs
a wasted try
at mending
and i thought
i’d left
somewhere between the breakup
and psych
long before your trap took to vomiting

but you resurfaced, today
while i was combing my fingers
for cadence

i sat there
dumbfounded with ash
wrangling the bones

all these familiars
sequestered, now come
spooking my enchantment

and you with sinister poise
dishing flack
while i scramble

'mirror' published in Contemporary Verse 2: The Canadian Journal of Poetry and Critical Writing (Winter 2016, Vol. 38 No. 3).