The Fieldstone Review


by Bethany F. Brengan

its not the mirror i know her its the fun games with sticks on bones names that sound like mine me and not- out lines shadows selves impressions in mind im over that no matter how much more hated i am and -i am what i started with what were only echoes
that frightens me now house glass stones flying other people told me this would happen me watching from the side, side- wind and leeward smudgy someone elses no! here isn't me loved or other I forget hands I forget voices