by Henry Walter-Wilde
Where am I?
Lights are out, the room is dark.
Think there’s movement, dart forward
Bumping into something, a noisy cascade.
A glint of light, bolt again
Another collision, a crunch this time.
A silhouette cast behind a curtain,
Grasping through, hands find a switch.
Here I am.
The lights are on and I am revealed.
I see the mess I’ve made,
A pile of masks I mistook for myself,
Spilled out on the floor.
A wall of mirrors I thought the same,
Fractured and useless now.
What a mess to try and face.
Flip off the lights and grab the curtain,
Draped in cloth and darkness