HISTORY
9.17.20
I read somewhere that weeping in-front of a mirror
Was less about inflaming self-pity
and more about wanting to feel witnessed in our despair
Sixty four bodies will never hug their families again
That’s the price they pay for going to work.
This jagged mirror cuts light the way prisms cut rainbows
the way ICE cuts body parts
how my nose cuts my eyes in
half and I see only the faces of
women who are less women staring back