Sour Glass in Your Eyes

A leaf of smoke is growing through a hole in the clouds.
I can see its reflections in the mirrors,
Hidden in far corners of my room.
The leaves of glass feel at home in the comfort of our flat,
And the pain of a distant tragedy
Becomes an ordinary performance
On the screen of their indifferent eyes.
A merciless fantasy.

~ Alan Zhukovski

Alan Zhukovski’s poetry, art and fiction have appeared or are forthcoming in MiPOesias, elimae, Foundling Review, Calliope Nerve, Kerouac’s Dog, Snow Monkey, and around 15 other American/British magazines. He also writes non-fiction (literary and music criticism, journalism).

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