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.