MYSTICAL NIGHT

Leaned over the railing of the East River

was a deeply felt seer

who’d one day drop the weight

of an enigma handed to them

gift wrapped

by people who sold their mirrors

for blankets filled with unseen thorns

The river’s breath made them one in the same

Passerby rose questions, curiosity

especially when the ping

of the nearest lamppost

caught twinges of handsome faces