1342

on the tour of her house

she stopped ever few minutes

sometimes in the middle of a room

on a well worn rug

faded underneath her feet

sometimes in a hallway

her chest a foot from the door

rising and falling

her breath fogging her glasses

each time

she’d turn around

furrow her brow

stare into the empty air

and say haven’t you grown older

oh yes I’ve grown quite old

my excuses have worn thin

and my desires have been revealed

into the sink

her eyelashes brushed the

porcelain

and sometimes

she’d lift her gaze to the mirror

and answer that invisible question

I know nothing

then later

the house settled

and prone to sighing

she retraced her sliding steps

and found new ways to slip