Written by Callan Latham
Art by Karolina Grabowska


We stand in front of the mirror
to move. I open my mouth and

you press peonies into me,
pushing me through glass

like I could fly. My wings cannot
be broken because they have

not been made. I lift my fingers
to the coolness of a pond, wish

for it to be a mirror too, and
for my head to be a space

for koi to swim and cattails to grow.
You pull me back this time,

your fingers like vices around
my shoulders. My mouth, the silt

in the river, clinging on. You, the broken
reflection that echoes the oblivion.

We hold each other in a dance like this,
echoing our bodies with gray and white

and gutted stars. The celestial bodies
hold up their heads

like they have missed home.
We stand in front of the mirror.

We cannot see the other side.