At first I thought,

My mother had moved the mirror,

That had been lying covered under a sheet

In our basement,

And brought it into our dining room

For Thanksgiving dinner.

Perhaps, (I reasoned),

She did this to make the room look expansive.

So it would appear large enough to accommodate

All the uncles and aunts and cousins,

And all the cousins of aunts and uncles,

And all the grandparents and great-grandparents

Who sat so close together that some of us

(Myself included),

Began to sweat.

At first I thought,

That when I looked at him,

I was looking simply at myself.

The resemblance was so striking that when I raised my arm to wipe my brow

I almost shuddered upon seeing my “reflection” remain completely still.

When my grandmother,

Following my gaze,

Asked cheerily,

“I guess you’ve never met your dad's brother, have you?”

I bit my tongue,

So that I would not shout,

“I must have been raised by him.”

Regret is an act of assessment:

Probe the depth of the sin,

Measure it,

Weigh it against all other transgressions,

To conclude you are undeserving

Of even your own sympathy.

From fighting hands he took something

Into his own

And ran a while

And spoke little

Who knew who might recognize him

As a thief?

After some months spent

Successfully anonymous

He disciplined himself

To run faster 

To speak less

Redoubled his efforts 

To remain a perfect stranger

Only to realize

He had not profited from the theft

I was lying on a boat

Docked on dry desert soil,

Naked and alone,

And could barely stand to walk

Towards the only light:

A sparkling mirror suspended by a string

That must have reached up

All the way to the starless sky.

And in it I saw myself,

Saw that I was not myself,

And where I stood

There was instead

A changeling.

In a moment of weakness

I chose the devil I knew

And while falling to pieces

I lost myself in a bar

And with the utmost of ease

I stopped my own heart

When I pulled out the keys

And got into that car 

The chalk outline smudged

By the torrents of rain

As the killer is judged

To be clinically insane

And the family cries

Seeing justice denied

As the media tries

To interview them outside

When the killer walks by

He looks right at the mother

And with a wink of his eye

He summons the thunder

From beyond the grave,

I tried to save

My family’s sanity.

Thought I’d haunt their home

And make it known

I was truly, finally free.

But when I went in

I heard the din

Of laughter loud and lively.