Remorse is a cruel

looking glass rimmed

in fairy-dust memory,

but it’s less than

magical.

It’s a rear-view

vanity piece

(all is vanity) in

a clamshell.

In a flagging reflection,

I saw refracted Odette

falling up

from swan lake; wings

of water cascaded up

to reveal a swan with

a human soul. I didn’t

part the moonlight with

a comb; I parted it with

a single hair. I sliced

the light until I found

you. But when your

eyes fell up, when

they

saw me–they didn’t

like what they were

seeing. I should’ve

played detective

at the duck pond

instead.

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2 thoughts on “Regret

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