HE SAID HE SAID

The distance between the mirror
and myself is a cloud of clouds.
But nothing raining today,
just my reflections
shooting each other
with dream bullets
around crowded corners.
Fruit exploding in the political,
revolvers emptying of little Kants.
I ducked into a meat market
to escape the deluge
accidentally disappeared
for weeks. Came back clean
as a cucumber
as odorless as
my mirror egos.
Mechaskypenis throws
a Texas Two Step
spraying oil from his knees
onto the wood dance floor,
counting fours
when he should be counting threes.
They kill for less, Kolaptō says.
They kill for more.

—-

from Ritual Dagger Zine

—-

Mike Bagwell is a poet, software engineer, visual artist, and translator. He received an MFA from Sarah Lawrence, and his work appears in Posit, Poetry Northwest, Action Spectacle, Texas Review, ITERANT, Afternoon Visitor, Annulet, and others. Recent chapbooks include Poem of Thanks: A Court of Wands (Metatron 2025) and micros from Ghost City and Rinky Dink. He runs the Ghost Harmonics reading series and magazine in Philly. Find him at mikebagwell.me, @low_gh0st, or playing dragons with his daughters.