The bell over the door
has not stopped ringing
before he shouts
“One per customer!”
Words bouncing off the
empty shelves and
down the greyed
wooden aisles
Only two items visible
to the eyes:
a palm-sized rosy
crystal perched in
the dust, and an oval
looking-glass, beveled
wrapped in a tarnished
silver frame
A hand reaches out and
he bellows: “no touching!’
the words beating down
like cotton on a drumhead
eyes seek form and legends
shifting in the ruby
sphere while the
silver sends back
a pair of azure eyes
and the contorted
outline of the door
above which,
the bell is still ringing.
