My Poem

I don't know that I need to post this, but this is my poem...so far.

Me, Reflected
Erin E. Curley

Squashed in the glass door as it bangs closed
A blink of a look.
Is that—?
The faded jeans same shoes oversized sweatshirt shell
Hiding in this one-woman cave of cold sky gray fabric
Pink puffy skin around bloodshot eyes.
Roses—no, just the murky pond of
colorless flesh thin pale lips and the tangles
that stick out like briars.
Shuffle grab yank the glass behind
But she remains.

This is a description of a reflection of myself in a glass door as someone lets it slam closed in front of me. I was trying to capture the idea of just getting a glimpse of your own reflection when you're not expecting to see it--and you are annoyed and appalled by what you see. You're out without looking your best and you're wanting to ignore what you look like, which is totally possible when you don't have to accidentally see your reflection in a glass door. I don't usually have such a terrible self-image. This is really more of a moment in time. At least, that's what I was trying for.