Mirror, Dreams

The I in the soul patch slapped off my face

Spread scattered ego shuffling on the breeze

Over every emaciated place

Diminished by my exile’s treason’s ease.

.

The man in my mirror, the man in my dreams

Splits snicker-snack in the caesura’s claws,

Neatly striking my name from where I’ve been

And scribbling it back in between the pause.

.

Same sign, new meaning: a coincidence

Of arbitrary logos advertising

Two different products—and yet all sense

Points at the sameness the change tries disguising.

.

So on these stilted thoughts wobbling across

My portrait, I know I and he are me,

But marvel that a mask’s symbolic loss

Can warp my memories based on what I see.

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About writewithlightning

I'm a published Canadian poet and fiction writer, posting haiku daily @writelightning on most social media sites. Please like and comment so that I know you're reading. It means a lot to me! View all posts by writewithlightning

One response to “Mirror, Dreams

  • 105

    sorry about not posting for a while. cubicle-land can be a busy place.

    “snicker-snack”…ahh, “jabberwocky”!

    this poem leaves me a little perplexed. is the reflection in the mirror superseding the agent before the mirror? it’s as though the reflection is the creator of the agent instead of vice versa. it reminds me of the saying that life imitates art…except that here life’s existence, its raison d’etre, stems from the imagined concept.

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