Side Effects

When death cuffed me across the face, I didn't turn the other cheek, but flinched, and from one corner of an eye, the wide field's blur just shaded into night.
Now mountains come at me askance along a road home's snaking curves, earth's rim, its margin hazed by a dusk sun-flared through cloud-wisps trailed above the tree fringe, frayed, and now in silhouette.
I keep an eye on it, blood streaming in the firmament, broadcasting tower and Ferris wheel glinting at a distance. Though it's almost five o'clock, the light of day still lingers. I keep an eye on it, keep twisting my neck round that bit more to the right.
It's like wiping the smile off one side of your face. This slice of death still stares me down from any bathroom mirror; in it, a temple and part-unlined forehead don't live up to who they are — as if I had no strains or stresses, time couldn't leave its mark on me, as if a half a life weren't over.