| sometimes I catch a glimpse of herin the corner of my eyeas I pass the mirror in the hallor a storefront windowwhen the light is just right she is an older womaneyelids droop over her lasheslike hoods on a game birdcrows feet at the corner of each eyeneck like a turkey gobbler wisps of gray hair here and there.who is she? why is she following me?she resembles my mothercan't be, she died years agostrange old hag cackles in my ear. |