Poem a Day 2 0 Disguise

 

Reflection

The mirror is the mask

- as is the lens -.

In an instant

I am hidden

behind some face

that couldn't possibly be the sum of

my loves and pains,

my inner, roadless, borderless landscape,

my, in fact, genetic attendance

to beauty. Always.

It is a face

twenty years into

hammering it out alone.

It is ugly, puffed, pinched, - a bit pissed.

And behind the eyes -

even the sad yearning from abadonment has gone stale.

In somehow the same life in which I loved you,

I have become pure stranger to my self.

So says the mirror

which calls me 

the disguise.

Chapbook poem a day. might avail myself of these prompts to finish my Lifeguard book..

 Before you go

Before your mouth falls away into invisibling ash

and cannot same my name

(or yours)

Let us speak of how you might try

through what? a slant of light

an adagio

a quaking leaf

to modify

(i'm sure without hands)

without will?

a surface of this world

to announce yourself

to call to me

to remind

remind

as if you needed to

of you, of me, of of

And let us speak of how I might try

When also gone vanished, to connect with you

How will we, as light waves,

as magnetic fields,

as vapor or less

meet?

Let's sort this out now.

Let's make a plan.