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Spoken version
A recorded reading of “Self-Portrait with Broken Mirror”. If the player does not load, use the original audio source.
The wall hangs a round moon by a strap, cold glass keeping its microclimate. I stand where the dark stays quiet; the mirror speaks behind my back. A sheet selects a body. Sleeves of air lift to the elbows. No face, no feet— only a pale sail, becalmed. Cracks vein the circle, an ice-map. Black wire sutures the hush, a signature the glass can’t sound out, crossing my name. I touch the rim. The room holds its breath. Somewhere the sheet measures my height. Outside, night is pinned to a nail.
Alternative version
The wall wears a round moon on a strap, cold glass keeping its little weather. I stand where the dark keeps quiet; the mirror does the talking. Inside it, a sheet chooses a body. Sleeves of air lift to the elbows. No feet, no face—just a pale sail waiting for wind that never arrives. Fractures vein the circle like winter on a pond. Black wire stitches the silence shut, a signature the glass cannot read, crossing out what might have been my name. I touch the rim. The room barely breathes. Somewhere the sheet learns my height. Outside, night drapes the houses the same way— a soft, white weather knotted to a nail.
Lyrics
The wall wears a round moon on a strap Cold glass keeps its little weather I stand where the dark stays quiet The mirror talks behind my back A sheet picks a body from air Sleeves lift and stop at elbows No face, no feet, a pale sail It waits for wind that won’t come hold me in cold glow then let me let go Cracks vein the circle like winter Black wire stitches the hush tight A mark the glass cannot read Crossing out my name I touch the rim, the room holds breath Somewhere the sheet learns my height Outside, night knots to a nail Windows forget their shine hold me in cold glow then let me let go Say it Or don’t I float I fold Cold glow Let go
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