Invisible Eye
       

Fog
chalks the skeletons
of houses. I pry
open
doors of dusk.
Every tree helps me
pick my way
home. I try
counting them
with my footsteps,
but the moment I ride
over their roots,
they twine into dangling
heads of hair.
The street is a finger
pointed
to the maiden in the moon
and her hare. Finally,
a fable turns real.
Someone
watches me. A key
falls
from his hand.
Distance between us
is a mouth.
I dare not turn
back, but stand
still
and wait — his shadow
is hiding in a cave.

Copyright © 2010 Fiona Sze-Lorrain All rights reserved
from Water the Moon
Marick Press
Reprinted by Verse Daily® with permission