Phantom Mirror III
I fear the woman of me, the landscape
of whom has been eager w/ change
time & geography I must find another
way to activate
her image, which has the mask of me, but none
of my secrets. I cannot judge their heft
but pinch my hip all the same.
Phantom Mirror IV
still growing, somehow,
the figure & her quiet architecture.
quick, too the sacrilege
I keep. trying to work the synth
of me, she extends some limb
or other—the gain,
high & freckled w impurities,
the source, inscrutable.
it is winter. I must keep
myself made in the good image.
physique being recourse
for which I have no paragon.