In the corner of the room
there is a woman
she hovers
like a ghost
Smiling at her effect
on the two of us
We are never alone
she invades
even the smallest
of privacies
She is obsolete
a byproduct of rejection
challenging obsession
as an anchor of the past
there is no validity
to her smile
She should disappear
as time passes
resembling mist
burned off by morning sun
Your eyes seeing her likeness
unwillingly follow – helpless
Sometimes my she-cat intervenes
with slanted green eyes
I light the way
to confrontation
She giggles
I hear her out loud
Perhaps I could ignore her
were she not thrown across
the stage at me
when least expected
Sandra L. Hazley
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