This morning I realized there are spiders living behind my bathroom mirror. I was applying blue eyeshadow when one crawled out and walked along the edge. I let it live. I let it crawl back to safety. I’ve crept along the dark backside of reflective surfaces before too. Once I wore a clown suit to lunch and no one would look at me. The waitress stared at the table with a straight face while I ordered fried tofu. Lately I’ve felt very round, like a portal to the past, but since it’s in my own body I can’t quite slip into it. I feel reversible, but one side is gold lamé and doesn’t match anything. My eyes just spill spiders, then retracts them. 92 | PHOEBE 49.1
Fiction, poetry, creative nonfiction, and art selected for phoebe's 49.1 issue.