I sing to my mirror. And it sings back. We harmonize, match our lip movements perfectly.
I pull out the medicine cabinet mirror, and we are four. We look at each other and smile with one-half of our faces.
Once I’m done, we leave. All except the one with horns.
Brandon Scott is a man of Florida and a freelance writer with a love of dark fiction.
Across the lawn, beyond
my gaze, my daughters’ voices
while the robin in the dogwood
breaks a tiny tip of branch and flies away
then comes and breaks
his swoop so close, even
the thrumming of his wings
is in the breath that I exhale.
Jennifer L. Freed lives in Massachusetts, where she writes poetry, takes care of her family, and likes to play with clay, which she disguises as ceramic sculpture. She has taught ESL in China, the Czech Republic, and the U.S. This poem appears in her chapbook, These Hands Still Holding (Finishing Line Press, 2014). Please visit her website, Jfreed.weebly.com.