She shepherded me as long as she could,

her hip swings, minute caresses—

hand on the hip, rub to the palm.

Fog on the mirror wiped away to reveal

dimpled cheeks, laughing eyes,

a hush hush to the doubts.

But the stranger surmounted her subtleties,

appeared at my bedside in the night,

a shadow, a silhouette marred

by the alarm clock’s red glow.

Another blink and it vanished

before my trembling lips could even

produce a question, and in its wake,

an unbearable absence began to gnaw

at my bones—come back come back,

I am worth the entity of a thousand moons,

pluck a star from the sky and shine it on me,

I will sow a paper crane’s grace,

the discipline of a dog, rich layers and multitudes—

The stranger returned on spasmodic occasions;

I begged it to stay.

The lull I experienced in its company

ushered me to an apex higher

than she had ever achieved,

offered an air so fresh it became my only way of breathing,

water so cold it washed every speck of dirt clean,

even she—who, long forgotten, faded from the mirror

until all that remained was the facade of a girl,

from whom I was estranged.

Beneath the veil—hungry breath, hidden tears,

sunken cheeks, thinning shadow.

What a queer thing occurs

when your reflection becomes a stranger.