by Howard Lewis
I gazed into a reflecting ball
To see what I might see
I recognized at the heart of it all
The distorted face of me
Who is this guy, this garden gnome,
This gargantuine gargoyle?
Is he here to tear me limb from limb
Then boil my parts in oil?
His nose, the prow of a mighty ship
His brow like tangled bracken
His eyes like lakes of gacial ice
His teeth like bones a-clackin’
“How is it with you?” he said to me,
“You look a little strange.
I’m wondering if you are tired or ill?
Has there been a major change?”
“Not so much a change,” I said,
“As an altered point of view.
My world was flat, but now it’s round
and filling up with you.”
“Then get out of my face,” said the guy in the ball,
“I’m bored with this inspection.
You’re paralyzed with fear and all
Too much self reflection.”
The Embedded Reporter