Once in a mirror
as it folded hair
back from its face
he discovered his eyes
earnest, lonely.
This was the beginning
of his life
inside the body,
of standing deep in the legs
of it,
held
in its elbowless arms.
And when it walked
he walked,
and when it slept
he dreamed of drowning
under its lakes
of skin.
Oh the thin man
trying to get out
learned of its great
locked breasts
its seamless chin,
the dead ends
of its hands.
And oh the heavy body
took him
to tables
of food
and took him down
into the groaning
carnal bed.
The pitiless body took him
to a mirror
which showed
the eyes
in a face
immense and dying,
who he was.
-Wesley McNair