POETRY BY NOLCHA FOX

Reflection

She looked at herself in the mirror. Her face shattered.

The Dishwasher is Singing

The choir sings

above the rush

of scalding water.

Soprano voices soar

above the churn

of soap.

I hear no melody,

I only hear the

waves of singers

calling out.

Perhaps they sing

to mourn

the carcasses

of animals

I’ve eaten.

The choir sings

in early dark,

though the dishwasher

rests in silence.

I wonder if

someone I know

will die today.

Nolcha Fox is a regular contributor to Dark Entries. You can find her bio here.