Dusk like a Dying Mirror

Michael Skinner
Becalmed in an inland sea.

Dusk like a great closing eye.

Dusk as gentle as baby's breath.

Dusk as smooth as glass.

Dusk like a dying mirror.

Daylight disrobed and discarded.

Naked in front a dying mirror.

And the stars, hard and bright climb slowly past her shoulder.

Published by Michael Skinner

I am a traveling poet and digital artist.   View profile

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