words by dominic riccitello

in the mirror

i wake behind mirrors
not in them
just behind
the metal edges
where reflection goes bleak

i stood in clothes
that once held shape
but now hang loose
like questions
without marks

our sky forgot its hue
and i forgot
how i used to laugh
like a name whispered
before the lips could twist
words could transcend

i swallowed seasons
let moths rot in pockets
held too long
as if months could sing
yet i could never choose

the shadows talk
as if i’m still here
and i still nod
not to lie
but because i want it
to be far from true

i used to write
beyond cursive arcs
that spelled something
now it’s all lowercase
drifting
melancholy
like where
the sea meets the ocean

i feel in static
the vibrations
the sound
i blink
and sometimes the room
it doesn’t come back

i remember the smell of ice
the sound of lights
the cold
a hallway
a door
a version of me
leaving without speaking

yet i touch my face
as a stranger might
carefully
honestly
painstakingly

i hear the music
faint
too quiet
a lossless sound

maybe that’s me
finding shape again