"Self-Portrait as a Private Person in the Mirror" by Peter Leight

Self-Portrait as a Private Person in the Mirror

When I look in the mirror
I’m not looking for anyone
who isn’t there.
Leaning to the side
and touching the walls
with the tips of my fingers,
I call it my wall span.
When I don’t need something
I put it where I know
I won’t be able to find it,
I don’t even know where
to look for it.
Opening and closing the door,
like an error followed by
another error, I’m not saying
it isn’t self-serving,
as in the paintings of Edouard Vuillard
in which women in patterned dresses
blend into the painted or papered walls,
as if they’re not even separate
from the rooms they’re in.
They’re not looking for anyone
who isn’t there.
I think I’ll step into the mirror
to see what nobody else is looking at.

Peter Leight

Peter Leight lives in Amherst, Massachusetts. He has previously published poems in Paris Review, AGNI, Antioch Review, Beloit Poetry Journal, New World, Tupelo Quarterly and other magazines.

Headshot: Margaret Bruzelius

Photo Credit: Staff