Some Shadowplay-related free association. Mirrors frighten me, for a number of reasons. I’ve mentioned before that I don’t recognize myself in mirrors – this has improved somewhat as my presentation has become less gendered. This might be a longer essay, but I feel an argument could be made that many nonbinary people experience dysphoria as dissociation. Still, there are only two mirrors in my house, and both of them are routinely covered up so no one needs to catch a flickering reflection out of the corner of their eye and think we’ve got a poltergeist.
Two ways up and no ways down this mountain.
The Lions’ statues all are headless now –
so few survive the drop from lofty brows –
still, their gullets’ gouts turn streets to fountains
Why the god of shadows loves a mirror?
The answer’s written on the walls downstairs.
There’s nothing you could ask that isn’t there.
Lean a little closer – you’ll see clearer.
Nothing that they left behind is wasted.
We’ll take the gifts they never meant to give,
brew the sweetest wine you ever tasted,
a house for every sin they don’t forgive.
If we’re cast as liars, go on naked.
Live like your mirror image wants to live.