Magazine June 14, 2021, Issue

Museum Tryst

(Chainarong Prasertthai/Getty Images)

With our foreheads pressed
Against the glass
We mentally try on
The silver mask
Within the case.

Its gilt edges
Border us in gold.
We turn inward
At the eyeholes,

And in brambles,
Ghostly hawthorn,
Owl shrieks,
Boar tusks,
I realize too late

You’ve lost sight of me.

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Brian J. Buchanan is a writer in Nashville, Tenn. His short stories, poems, and essays have appeared in Crannog, Chronicles, The Westchester Review, Literary Matters, Modern Age, Cumberland River Review, Potomac Review, and elsewhere.

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