Winter Harvest

A far off memory
results that don’t line up
faces blurred, lines crossed out
phantasmic light barrage

I wander in and out
my rampage never ends
back and forth through tiny
spaces it traces my
face with a finger and
grows out of my control

my hazy reflection
winks back with cheshire grin
face contorted and strange
wildebeests loose in my brain
I see everything and
reject it all again

I am Prometheus
given fire and snuffed it
returned for store credit

by Kris Moore