Imaginary Brother
I have had no brother
except the boy in the mirror
who made faces at me,
who made passes at me
when I walked by,
inviting me to the self-love
that preoccupied me
for two-thirds of my life,
until it narrowed my life
to a rectangle of glass
smaller than a pocket
mirror used by any girl,
in which I was the only subject.
Nowadays I close my eyes
when I shave his face,
for really he has no face
at all that matters. Nowadays
he comes and goes. What
have I lost in wishing goodbye
to him? What did he teach me
about myself that had to be
seen and sent away, like
a mirror in a darkened room
that sees nothing until
its face returns to regard
itself, returns again to light up
the mirror with its illusion
— Bill Zavatsky
from Where X Marks the Spot by Bill Zavatsky (Hanging Loose Press, 2006)