Narcissus, Loathing

Stare! Simply stare.
What do you see there?
A laurel? A feather? An inclement change
In forgotten, ancient weather?

No, no – you see
A marble-cut smile,
Artificial water face
In an inarticulate place.

A shattered fragment,
A splintered piece,
Disinvited from the lonely man’s feast,
Spared, it seems, from the buzzing of bees
In a hive of loathing, a head-box, red
Your mind as dark as the Aegean sea,
A settling sort of wine-bright dread.

Go on, go try – go and try
To kill me.
But before you do, he –
Well, let me ask why.

Drop pebbles, stones,
Old gods’ bones,
A drachma for your thoughts.

Reflected lover,
What is it that you see
In me?

Attempt to hone
The reasons why
You could loathe one such as I,
A splintered cell, a fragment of you
Caught in this dewy pool.

Hyacinth pink, old forest green
I am only as ugly as you think I seem
To be; a monstrous hue of yellow
Is what covers you, the sheen
In a glaze of moly, hazing
Fast over this thin genesis,
This moment to grasp
This moment, etherizing.

Drop pebbles, stones,
Old gods’ bones,
A drachma for your thoughts.

[Tara Abrahams is currently studying at the University of Toronto. She is an aspiring ornithologist, museum junkie, and English student who writes almost as often as she breathes. Her work has appeared in Blueprint Magazine, Paper Darts, and The Yellow Bird Magazine.]

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