Perfection I Regret Having Bore Witness To

by Michael O'Ryan

Visions in the throes of
torqued imminence
blaze and flourish
through my
sea-blue skull mirrors

all I see is
white heat seething
through lulls in the
window frame
and a sunless desert
in place of where you used to
let your skin breathe

sing along
to the macabre strumming
of my blackened heart strings
and show me how it feels
to house yesterday's
glacial purities
in your chest cavity

charred remains of
diasporic gut spillage
and a slur of regret
are all I need to remind myself
that suspension of disbelief
goes a long way when
looking in the mirror.