Right as I left the darkening storefront
I walked up to the edge of the world
And looked over
I saw
The long grey-blue skeleton dress I wore, belted
The bottle of alcohol and the cup, half full
The contents of his refrigerator: cheese, grapefruit juice, dry Whole Foods cookies
The chair, too art deco for the other furniture
The lamp, draped with a bedsheet
The mattress, naked, stained
On the ground, angled up at my face, was the mirror
My reflection’s mouth pulled down on the edges
Eyebrows a little closer than usual, faintly furrowed
Her gaze, the reflection down below, met mine
But it was so deep off the edge of the world
So I turned away from the objects of that night
And walked back to the glowing yellow storefront
To the warmth and the coke and half-empty tea boxes
And didn’t tell anyone about what I saw while looking over
The edge
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