Mirror Ball I

We enter the vestibule through sliding glass and light of day.
A panopticon of portals opens between our neurons.
You drink a wide-brimmed goblet of menstrual blood.
Our interiors are wine-stained, maroon, mahogany, black.
We exude warmth.

I fan a deck of cobalt-backed tarot cards.
I turn up the corner of your card.
You see it’s a 7 but not the suit.
A woman in the front row asks don’t you want to win?
But we’re tranquil and unconcerned.

I’m swallowed by a snake with a hateful face.
I shred through its body but feel remnants of snakeskin.
Your presence is a constant at the nape of my neck.
You hand me the ring from your pinky finger.
When I gaze in, the circle grows wide as a mirror.


Danika Stegeman LeMay’s work has appeared in APARTMENT, Blue Arrangements, CLOAK, Concision, Leavings, The Woodward Review and Word for/ Word, among other places and is forthcoming in Ethel Zine. Danika’s debut collection of poems, Pilot was published by Spork Press. Her website is danikastegemanlemay.com.