Time
It is my own mirror that I see
Not Jackson’s, not Plath’s
But one where what I see
Does not reflect who I am
But someone from a far place
A foreign one
Do I recognize her? Not all.
I can not reconcile with the image
That has grown older then I imagine
Myself to be
There it is in the eyes
Centuries of life
Where dreams of death and ghosts
Have played havoc with the mind
And heart
And life now
Seems unreachable
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