I have to practice in the mirror.

by Amy Turn Sharp


Our words like tiny knives

we throw bombs and bricks and butter bowls

all over the kitchen floor

and it's foggy with love disguised by anger

and when we hurt the people that we love with our shouting

or when they hurt us we can't stop the loop for a bit

Not for a while.

Replay.

It would be a very good thing to freeze time and have a storytelling voice-over

explain away a lovers quarrel by dissecting it and making it funny somehow.

Or silly.

Or necessary to plot.

It would make it easier to watch in replay. It would be Nicolas Cage and his voice would sing song away all of the pain as he told the story of an ordinary morning that went wonky. And later when you hold washcloths to your eyes because you feel like you can see underwater -you look into the mirror above the sink and you laugh right out loud. Not because everything is fine again, but because you think about all those babies in "Raising Arizona" crawling around and it just reminds you of the way Holly Hunter's voice could possibly be the most perfect sound in the world. And then you rub your face with a rough white towel and you know with certainty that the most perfect sound in the world is your own mouth opening up and telling that other person that you are sorry. It has a timbre that makes you arch your back. It has a cadence that comforts you both.