Schism

"Where is the sun, where is the moon?" the mirror asks. He sees the silence in the other's gaze— crouched against the wall an empty face where once two small diamonds burned and cut in two who once was whole "Where is the blanket for the cold?" the mirror asks. He swipes a star from far to balance on his outstretched hand it tears a trail of blood through fabric frail and skin so thin below his ear he stitches squares of dark with sparks of warmth to cloak against the night "When will you make me whole?" the mirror asks. He strikes a match to light the star and from his hand small grains bright sand glimmer in the fickle white he spills them on the floor before his empty him "I can't be us" he says with faint apology and buckled knees— while in the other's eyes life fades without a fight *** August 12, 2017 Copyright © Darren White 1st place in contest: The Poet's Shadow Sponsor: Greg Barden