after a week of living
at my house, my friend notices
there are mirrors everywhere.
it’s what happens when you live alone:

you keep a self following you
through each room. you design the light
to walk around you, careful
not to touch it.

on my walk today
in my daily act of forcing myself
to leave the house, i see smoke
already lining the distance,
the air sharpening its blade.

what happens when you can see death
before you approach it? what happens
when it’s the only sure thing
you’ve got?

in the late sun, my shadow walks
in front of me, leading the way.
i fill my future like this:

second by second, stepping into the space
she left behind, finding my own two eyes
around each corner.