TheBanyanTree: pantograph

[Mike Pingleton]

like ink it looked but it
felt like blood - my
arm a pantograph 
from heart to pen,
my dark desires and
deeds scaled to scribble

which I later chanted as 
I burned the paper
out back, sending you
a sending and smoke
signals you never saw

the ashes I ate, and later
I stood outside your house
in my sleep, mirror slivers
in my hands, flinging 
alphabets of sun into
the gaps of your curtains.