The Islands

“the mirror is hell”
—Sundowner Graffiti
goes the bones
on the brick
of the throat
in the fig
goes the lethe
of ouzo

—dedicated to the person that I particularly want
to look into it—

in a clear bit of rock
or maybe soap-
stone the ur-
flick of the thumb
looking at pieces
fleck in dull shards
or maybe clay
or soot regardless
to make marks with