For Linda G Hills Stream of Consciousness Saturday  “to your left.” 

To my left

is a window that I can’t open

and a door with a broken lock

there are empty dusty  wooden shelves

tombs for brittle dead moths.

 

To my left

is a gritty  mirror and a reflection I can’t see

tell me, are the eyes flat and lifeless

is the mouth a hard dark line

whisper me the answer, is that empty face really mine?

 

To my left

are unpacked boxes

dead rats behind crumbling brick walls

this used to be my home, the kitchen was white and green

to my left

 

is all I can see from where I was cut down

and forgotten.