Self-Portrait As an EchoIvy Kleinbart
I was only able to see you in mirrors so your image wasn’t constant or clear. When steam from a hot tap streaked the glass and the walls swelled, you disappeared. In the park, I looked up from a slate of pond you leaned over and found you again, through rippled pupils. You were handing out leaflets on the corner; I was the only taker. I reached for a copy, our hands never touched. We locked eyes in a storefront window as you passed, alarmed at the warps but pretending disinterest. Now, when I waver at an entrance, you walk ahead and check the gate. We sit opposite each other on the subway, always on the verge of recognition.
Ivy Kleinbart Read Bio Author Discusses Poems
|©copyright 2004-2021, No Tell Motel. All poems ©copyright the authors.|