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.