A finger to his lips, as if to say
goodbye, or be still now, I’ll soon be

gone, but as it wasn’t clear, he stayed,
staring in the mirror, his image

imitating him, in its moment,
unknowing as to what it meant, and

why, why the want of words, the silence.
He turned away, turned to where he was

before, a thought ago, with nothing
on his mind, but where to stand, and what

to say, a step away from there, where
the mirror stood, as if in wait, as

if it might incite his lips, at last,
to open to what was hidden there.

Ray Malone is an Irish writer and artist living in Berlin, Germany, who has been working on a series of projects exploring the lyric potential of minimal forms, often based on various literary and/or musical models. His work has been published in a number of journals in the US, UK and Ireland.

See more of his work in 9.3 and 8.2 and 5.3

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