Olivia McCannon
Three poems by Olivia McCannon
Mirror
I’ve got a mirror hanging from my pack.
It stares up at the sky. The sky stares back.
The pretty half of my mum’s powder compact.
We left the rest in a heap, ten miles back.
All gone, the powder that kept her young.
Daily facemasks of dust have made us old.
The only thing still pink is my dry tongue,
poking the cavities filled with our last gold.
I can never see more than a piece of my face,
never more than an eye and half a nose.
We’ve been walking through this waste for days,
wearing the same black as our shadows.
Dad says it must be 40 in the shade.
And no shade anywhere. Walking for days,
for days and our bones are dryer than ever,
we skitter like dead leaves across the map.
With all this light we’re lighter now than ever.
Our packs emptier but heavier now than ever.
Every day it is even harder than ever
to open our eyes and let the sand pour in.
Today I stared so hard at the sky it cracked.
It stares up at the sky. The sky stares back.
The pretty half of my mum’s powder compact.
We left the rest in a heap, ten miles back.
All gone, the powder that kept her young.
Daily facemasks of dust have made us old.
The only thing still pink is my dry tongue,
poking the cavities filled with our last gold.
I can never see more than a piece of my face,
never more than an eye and half a nose.
We’ve been walking through this waste for days,
wearing the same black as our shadows.
Dad says it must be 40 in the shade.
And no shade anywhere. Walking for days,
for days and our bones are dryer than ever,
we skitter like dead leaves across the map.
With all this light we’re lighter now than ever.
Our packs emptier but heavier now than ever.
Every day it is even harder than ever
to open our eyes and let the sand pour in.
Today I stared so hard at the sky it cracked.
Page(s) 53
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