Chronometer - Helena Dow
She stands by the mirror
dissecting the woman crosswise –
corner to corner.
Red-rimmed eyes narrowed –
blank.
Mouth pinched.
Horizontal lines
show the tag of dashing turns –
the branded trunk of cattle –
Arms hang loose –
loomed by veins and patches.
Her body bare
in burst-out bumps
stands rigid,
static.
A metallic sheet
posed in dual panic mode –
A miscast
of implied anti-thrill
in the still of the night.
She stands by the mirror
to hear from the rival’s mouth.
A voice ticks against walls of matter –
The voice breathing from the back of her brow –
against the hollow of tomorrow
in the room where the child sleeps.
She stands beside herself
detached from body, crown and arms –
scissors against scalp
eyes split by glooms
while auburn curls fall like shavings
lost for a while
in the curve of her view.
How fast is the clock in the darkness
when you ask for redemption?
Contributor's Note
BA, Postgraduate Student University of Waikato.
Interests: Modern languages, Art history & Creative writing (fiction, non-fiction; prose & poetry).
My ambition is to observe, explore & challenge cultural assumptions, beliefs, human sufferings, traumatic experiences & biographical details in my writings.