A heart once pliable and softwith the bloom of youth stillwafting sweetness into an open mindnow hard as flint, in self absorbed,avoiding mirrors except to smash themand revel in the shardscrushed sharply under theboot of controlthe picture in the atticwears a knowing smirkdeaf to any echo but its ownneck deep in its ownenveloping paper whiteContinue reading “Narcissus”