I can drape myself in velvet wraps
smooth my body inside and out
I can dissolve into a pool of myself
if the planets are positioned just right
The strength assigned to only one side
And the forcefulness of images
reflected through my eyes
A quiet ritual on a regular night
But, oh, the contrast of scenes
Between mirrors small and large
The foreign lines of a numbered room
Are exciting, but not enough
So they become a memory
They get catalogued and put away
And the safety then beckons and calls
To manifest fictions of identity
