Lie to me, she said,
your truths bore me.

I looked at her, searching her eyes for humour,
but only found dead seriousness
echoing her words.

I'm lucky to have you,
I said,
standing, my jacket already
in my hand.



I woke in a sweat to find myself
looking at myself.
My midnight doppelgänger
was as sweaty as I,
though fully dressed
while I was naked.

He looked just as scared as I,
though mingled with that fear
was curiosity.
I raised my hand,
expecting his corresponding hand
to correspond with the movement.

His hand didn't move.
He simply stared at me
and smiled.
A bead of terror sweat
blurred my vision
and in that blurring
he disappeared
as though he never had been there.

I switched on my best side light
to see the door mounted mirror
was cracked.

I didn't sleep for the rest of that long night.
Nor did I turn off that light.



With a silver smile on her lips
she tells me heaven resides
between her thighs.
The atheist that I am wisely remains silent,
simply returns her smile,
and bows down in worship,
my tongue eager to dance
among her wordless prayer.


Edward Lee's poetry, short stories, non-fiction and photography have been published in magazines in Ireland, England and American, including the Stinging Fly, Acumen and Smiths Knoll. His debut poetry collection, Playing Poohsticks On Ha'Penny Bridge, was published in 2010. He is currently working towards a second collection.

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