Assignment 7 (The wall)
星期三 三月 25, 2009 8:34 am
No windows, the wall is cold, it survives
bleeding lights, we measure in distance,
in silence. its face, the wall
sticks to our skins, and our veins turn chilly.
Patch by patch, we order new mirrors
and refuse the Mirror the old woman bent
into. Thirty six pieces,
(not any one of the broken pieces
in the winter of 1963) each
a square, shiny, shipped to our house.
A grey wall now, clawed and bloody.
We mount the mirrors side by side
on the wall, fixed with glue, Lights
spin. We watch our faces turning
into many faces.