her reflection

I had this romanticised picture in my head for some time, a naked woman standing at a window in an old European flat looking out at the snow while her lover lay in bed, silently watching her. I had spent a lot of time traveling back and forth to Germany, visiting my then-girlfriend. There was always a disconnect between us. We never 'clicked' on any deeper level, and that feeling of disconnect made its way into my writing.





her reflection
doran damon okkema

she stood at the window
in her underwear
looking out at the snow
fallen fresh
on the streets below
and the rooftops above
at icicles hanging low
from the eaves trough

her warm breath
fogged the glass
and she pushed her hand
to the cold window pane
leaving behind a print
that mirrored her palm