Illusion / Illumination

Admit it: we are always on the edge of
I am pale-limbed and failing
We call this illumination
By illumination, we mean
a mirror you didn’t know
Sunshine, you are mine
coughed up on the windowsill
Which is no one’s fault
You were lying

                                                —Erin Slaughter

becoming accidentally evil
I am too young and anyone
and it means something to us
illusion—By illusion we mean
was there
It’s all the same old light
You sparkled
and I destroyed myself
You were all trembling starlight
there all of the time

Erin Slaughter

Erin Slaughter is currently pursuing an MFA at Western Kentucky University, where she teaches undergraduate writing classes. She has been nominated for a Best of the Net Award and a Pushcart Prize. You can find her writing in River TeethJukedGravel, the Indianola Review, and the Bellingham Review, among others. She is the author of a poetry chapbook, Elegy for the Body (Slash Pine Press, 2017).  

ISSN 2472-338X
© 2017