Poem For When I Am Startled By My Reflection
by Leni Rogers
I think of all the tall
in me and am tempted to call it
narrow. On the subway
I do the unthinkable
and spread my legs wide. I am looking
to be something so solid
nothing can pass through me
without a fight.
Sometimes, or rather,
often I seem to myself
a small and feeble thing,
dog-like and trembling before
I catch my reflection and remember
my hair isn’t blonde
anymore
and my eyes don’t really look
all that much like saucers.
Sometimes, or rather,
often I open the camera on my computer
before raising my hand to speak.
I throw myself down the steps
of first impressions and am surprised
when my body makes a sound at the bottom.
In front of a mirror
I slap myself. No more,
I say. You are not
a boy begging. Living
from this body makes it seem smaller,
but look here, your knees
can press up against the knees
of the stranger next to you on the train
and your mouth is a steady line.