It's Still Life

The Old Woman Hangs the Moon

the stairs creak louder now
that she’s stopped counting them.
“one less thing,” she tells the dust,
“to weigh the pockets.”

her mirror fogs with tea steam—
a kindness. she scrapes her reflection
clean with a knife, hums:
“all this light, and no one
to blind.”

the neighbours whisper:
“she used to keep cats—”
“no, it was a parrot—”
“no, a husband.”

she collects their guesses
like loose teeth, strings them
on fishing line. hangs them
where the window almost
touches the moon.

“proof,” she tells the mouse,
“that I was never
just one story.”

PAD (Poem-a-Day Challenge) Day 8 with Prompt: Love Some artwork is created using Midjourney AI, and is identified as such in the ALT text or captioned. Images are copyright and not to used without permission, which I willingly give when asked, and when not for commercial use. Imagery and poems/prose ©Misky 2006-2025 All Mischief Reserved.