The hall of mirrors
is not the place for me
I already see
myself drawn
a million times over
in other people’s faces
Caged but still singing
my mind prances within its confines
knowing enough to know
that I am contained but not to know how to traverse the boundaries
or to look for holes to shoogle through
one tendril at a time
A palace can be a prison
the opposite can be true
for if I was able to let my body rest a while
unnoticed, locked away
my mind would seize the freedom of the unobserved
and trill from heights that this flesh will never see.
Wellington Street Review
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