I’m lost at a carnival.
A clown leers.
The knife-thrower aims his knife.
I run into a tent of mirrors.
My distorted reflection surrounds me.
I flee into the darkness
and crash through a mirror.
I stand in a dark room
as the floor spins.
I grab for the walls.
My hands slide on the wet stones.
The floor gives way.
I’m falling.
THE DEAD GAME by Susanne Leist
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