The glass of the deli is a black mirror

The glass of the deli is a black mirror

after the lights go down at midnight.

I saw a shape moving in the dark

and braced myself for a fight,

only to see it was just me.

The coat is too tight across the back,

pulling my shoulders into that sharp,

angry hunch she always had.

I thought I’d walked far enough away

to lose the shape of her worry,

but it’s sewn right into the bone.