It is hard to recognize who is looking
back at me when I stand before
a mirror. The body distorts who I
would see and only by some other-
world calculus do I say, “That’s me”
the way a student gives an answer
without the confidence it’s right.
I move, the reflection disappears
and I am left to do what I do without
the hindrance of reflection, the doubt
of whom I’ve seen is me. I don’t
remember time passing so quickly,
taking so much in its giving.
Somewhere inside I am strong, quick,
smooth-skinned, clear-eyed;
there’s no reflection of that. I watch
myself feel and think and act,
know as I’ve been I am not. Think
about breaking mirrors, think about
bad luck, know I can’t break every
mirror especially the one inside me.
-Byron Hoot
