you are last seen tonight

by Miriam McEwen

Sitting up naked in the full-length mirror. Feeling yourself in your wheelchair—especially the parts you cannot reach—as but a sopping wet glint. A wavering across the surface of the glass. River drenched and lonely. You did not leave the party. You have never left the party. There is body glitter still flecked to your collarbone. Blood smeared lick-able from your bottom lip. You live inside this mirror now. A hard bruise marking your cleavage. A friend, barefoot, cutting a path for your chair through the wood rot and wild mushrooms. You amaze him. As if nothing scares you.            

Photo of Miriam McEwen

BIO: Miriam McEwen writes about disability and bodily autonomy. Her work is featured in Wigleaf, Best Small Fictions, HAD, Black Warrior Review, and others. Miriam serves as an associate editor at the South Carolina Review and lives in the foothills of South Carolina. Find her on Instagram @miriammcewen.