bête noir

there is a room with a chair and a window

and outside that window is the moon.

with every passing second she grows

closer

and brighter

and the ocean in your ear screams louder and louder.

*

how long does it take for you to see yourself in the moon?

how long before her delicate craters and light years of experience

become your own wrinkled skin and naïveté?

the moment you sit down?

an hour?

*

blink and you’ll miss it.

*

there is a mirror with a girl behind it.

with every breath she gets younger

and i get older.

i’m just trying to catch up.

maybe if i breathe before she does i can even it out…

i’m hyperventilating.

how is she so calm?

she’s too young to see this.

get her out of the mirror

and hold her

and keep her here.

*

she’s not breathing anymore.

i took every last breath.

i’m old enough to die now.

she’s young enough to want to.

*

wash your hands of it.