“Self-Portrait in Black and White” © Edward S. Gault


Curio Shop

On my way home late one night
I stopped to look into the window of a curio shop.
I couldn’t see much.
It was dark, except for a light in the rear
A figure entered from the back room.
At first I thought he was a staff member-
Perhaps working overtime;
But he began taking all the clocks off the back wall.
And throwing them down on the floor.
He took what looked like a baseball bat
And finished the job by smashing them to bits.
He cleared off all the shelves of the figurines
And ground them to powder with his heel.
He smashed all the cases
And pulverized all the contents
                          -Jewelry, watches, and little picture frames
All smashed to bits.
He didn’t leave anything.
The floor was covered with debris.
He stopped to survey his work-
To make sure he hadn’t omitted a single detail.
He was close to the front of the store where I stood
-just outside.
When he turned to look out, I could see his face.
It was me.


Edward S. Gault is a poet and fine arts photographer living in Brighton, Massachusetts. His work has appeared in Oddball Magazine, Spectrum, Wilderness House Literary Review, Interlude, Currents, and Encore.