What happens if Narcissus never speaks?
Love is left to play on in mute and monochrome,
lust takes over the moment. No touch me, touch
me, or tell me, tell me, but the silent adoration of
his infra-red self. Shadows are easy to pine for.
Narcissus never speaks, but his mobile trills like
a nightingale. Echo listens, transfixed. Please
leave a message after the tone. After the tone, the tone, the tone…
He doesn’t hear
her song but her keen-pitched admiration
follows him all day long. He sits with his head in
his pocket and his untouched phone ringing out,
battery dying like hope
beside him.
~ Emily Oldham
Emily Oldham is from the West Midlands, UK, and is currently studying English at the University of Oxford. Her work has previously appeared in magazines including Bare Fiction and Inkapture.