Salt dissolves this mirror

which is finite, blotched with the heat
and wet of a benignant winter

in the body, a kind austerity,
the exsufflation of a needy sentence

whispered softly to fog a surface.
Outside the neighbors string

lights around the trunks of lifetime
oaks, like necklaces of bejeweled

tears, as might costume a saint,
a lady of the light of a lonely  lookout,

tower illuminating at best its own
exception, though exciting the dark.

About the Author: Michelle Gil-Montero is the author of Attached Houses (Brooklyn Arts Press, 2013) and the translator of several books of contemporary Latin American writing, most recently Dark Museum (Action Books, 2015). Her work has appeared in Jubilat, Spoon River Poetry Review, Conjunctions, Colorado Review, Beloit Poetry Journal, and other journals. She lives in Pittsburgh and is Associate Professor of English at Saint Vincent College.