RogueAgent

stealthily gazing out of the mirror behind the
golden glasses framing my father’s eyes. He haunts
every moment I feel my animal body shrieking,
discover my own roughest edges. He silvers the lines
of the name I would have had. I wonder how long his body
has been hidden in the hot flush of my face, the shadow
at my heels. There’s a lot to be said about how
I go looking for him instead of just being him. I wish
this body was a silent house where the clouds never move.
But I don’t think I will ever be any one thing, or anything
I dream of. I wander under the bottomless sky with only
an eerie howl accompanying me. I dream of a man
ambling beside me, his face barely alien, in the place
where the echoes of the past can—and do—let us escape.
I dare to think this is something I will get to have
before I find that when I wasn’t looking, all the mirrors broke.

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