by Greg Brostrom
In the mirror.
My short black hair casts a halo's shadow on my head. Flat whorls.
My long black fingers are swallowed by the billowing sleeves of my robe. Bent blade.
My grinning black lips disappear beneath the pointed white hood. Only eyes.
You'd never guess what was beneath the fabric.
Everybody needs a hobby.
Thursday, June 26, 2008
White Knight
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