Standing Naked Before A Mirror Poem by Alexandre Nodopaka

I know, I know, you must find me
somewhat weird standing naked
in pitch darkness with a lit candle
flickering beneath my chin.

Well, it's not that my skin is thick
and impervious to burns. It's simply
far enough not to singe but close enough
to remind me that Fyodor Mikhailovich

hallucinated looking at himself.
And so, after a while, getting deeper
into the experience I review some
of my own life-shattering experiences.

Like questioning my sanity in believing
at one time the abracadabra about gods
and their cohorts of divinities.
I know, I know, you already

pigeonholed me
as the evil Grigori Yefimovich
before you finished reading this.
But by the time you threw your nets

of assumptive knowledge
I metamorphosed into another soul
in front of that mirror and an alternative I
emerged when I crossed through the thin

glass and embraced my own gaze.
Yes, despite the dark, I saw my presence
and suddenly was frightened
by what would happen to one of the I

if the mirror shattered into an infinite
number of shards each containing
a bleeding and dying morsel of me.