What’s that I see –
in the corner of the mirror,
when I look just right,
when the lights are turned down low
and I’m not too busy thinking
about how complicated my life is these days.
If I don’t blink or squint,
I can make it out –
hunched and twisted, like maybe Rumpelstiltskin
or some other creature
lurking in the origins of old fairy tales.
I can feel it sometimes,
breathing on my neck, ready to pounce –
but then,
when I glance just so
and don’t turn out all the lights,
it shrinks back
just enough,
until I pass another mirror.
Pen in Motion 