APPARITION

By Peter Mitchell

These mirrors croon, Come, come, come! We’re hungry!

                                    After months of red-clawed pain,

            a few days of familial care:

                        companionship of brother & one sister,

                        warmth from mugs of black tea,

                        bed linen washed from night sweats,

revives my epidemic-thin 59.6 kilograms.

These shining surfaces are aliens!

            Mirrors as other-

world agents,

            their calls are rusted gate-

            hinge rasps,

                        ruptures not of earthly designs.

These shining surfaces are aliens!

Magnetic heave entrances me to the bathroom

                        mirror

                                    as if without will.

                        Metal facial-shards re

flect the always-same expression:

                                    black feared-orbs,

                                    yellow-skin parchment

                                    cheek bones as clenched fists.

These shining surfaces are aliens!

  Bile rises.

            What is this apparition?  

In my sister’s bedroom, a full-length reflection red-pulses.

A glowing spectre:

                        purple-faced emoji-devil shape-shifts to wrinkled sepia-snout to ghost traces of HIV  

These shining surfaces are aliens!

            The walls shake,

                                    floor moves.

#darkpoetsclub