Handedness

Differences present themselves first:

how the mug is held in the wrong hand

or at the wrong time of day, evenings

meant for endings, a glass of whiskey

to cry into, a place to lay your head.

Coffee, then, held between both hands:

a beginning. Here, we start to see our

similarities, how our mouths both turn

to laughter, knees bent in even angles

without thought of who follows or leads.

This is what it is to have a reflection:

to see yourself before yourself and only

half-recognize your face, the dark curls

that fall in the wrong direction, shorter

from this angle; a perspective collected,

a puzzle discovered, all borrowed pieces,

broken notes & sorrows which suddenly fit.