Friday, December 3, 2010
I’ll open my eyes, she says in her head.
The sunlight blurs, sharpens, focuses.
She stretches her torso, tells herself today is different.
Her brain doesn’t know it yet. Only her body.
She tries to run her fingers through her tangled hair--
Looks over. Remembers.
She sees a reflection of herself, only different--
A mass of blood, bones, a carved-out shell. The Other.
The birds outside don’t know it.
Birds go about their business, disregarding ours.
But inside, there is a war.
Of power. Of wits. Of corpses.
I’ll close my eyes, he says in his head.
It’s too early for birds.
He spins into nothingness.
His body doesn’t know it yet. Only his brain.
In his dreams, he sees a mirror.
A reflection of himself, only different.
He has her eyes, but what they reflect is only himself.