fiction / Mirror Images
by Rachel Swirsky / copyright 2008
i.
In the beveled mirror over Don’s dining table, mine is an ex-wife’s face. Broomstick hair crackles around hollow, harried eyes that look like a beaten dog’s. I could lick or bite without warning.
My reflection regards the divorce papers Don’s lawyers drafted to rob me of the house we bought with Don’s coin and my sweat. […]













