Anne Pepper
One face forward
another backsided, I
am perpetually conspiring
with my better half.

If holding a mirror in
one of two hands, I
can literally see an
inverse of what I

reached for, desired. You
were my epitome. My
single, my one. I, your
possession, us a trinity.

I guard doorways, the
pathways to knowing
are my guarded cadeaux.
You were gift-laden,

admitted. My eyes
upon you, two at turns-
I cannot look in
both directions at once,

present and past. Pristine,
untouched, a locked door, you
entered as you exited.

Anne Pepper is currently a graduate student at Indiana University. She is most recently published in the Danforth Review, Mentress Moon, and Stirring. Her first master's degree was in creative writing and her second and final master's degree will be in library science.

In Posse: Potentially, might be ...