Thursday, March 10, 2011

Parallel Paradise

Broken mirrors
Produce shattered images
Of the life I once knew.
Maybe I didn't love it
But at least it was familiar.

Love-stained pieces of memory
Fall far from the tree
I planted in the backyard.

Wrap-around porch,
Knots in the wood,
Creaking front door,
Rusty hinge.

Thirteen steps down
Exactly fourteen steps up;
Always more leading up.

The second window,
To the right,
Shows my reflection
     not quite clear
With all the dust that's gathered
Through the years.

A single tear falls from
What used to be my face
A trail of white
Pierces the dirty background.

I jump backwords,
With all my might,
     over the railing,
Across the freshly cut weeds,
Straight onto the
Splintered, white picket fence.

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