SurVision Magazine
An international online magazine
that publishes Surrealist poetry in English.
Issue Eleven
CLARE COOMBE
Mirror
Like the surface of a pool
where Narcissus gazed
and loved
and faded,
it catches me when I do not wish to be caught.
Says look, when I do not wish to see.
Offers me myself, framed like a painting
amid scrolling wreaths of wood.
The light blinks across its smooth abhorrent glass
grasps my padded skin and holds it tight.
My eyes are drawn by a Siren's lure
to stare in sickened intrigue at a body
reduced to flat unfriendliness,
minutiae expanded in grotesque reality.
I have you now, it grins with silver teeth.
Tearjerking
The crows-feet round my eyes
attach themselves
to crows and try to fly.
Skin-ache straining as they tug
to reach the skies.
The wings beat hard
around my reddening cheeks,
tail feathers catch my eyelids,
swatting tears.
Clare Coombe is from Kent, England.
She works as a free-lance educator. Two of her novels have been published via
Amazon. Her poems have recently appeared in Snowflake Magazine and Ink, Sweat & Tears, among others.
