7 (written 02/09)

if fathers have sons
and mothers have daughters
what is for those that take a different path?

I see a little girl in a white faux fur coat and brown mary-janes
in front of a three-way mirror
on her knees
she gazes at her many reflections
and makes funny faces
hands, turned upward
fingers on face, making a pig nose as she oinks
in a flash, she jumps up
posing for her dopplegangers
again and again
talking to all the versions of herself
whispering in a language unbeknownst to me
coat comes off in a flash
a stomp, a pouty face
then a punch
her mother tells me that she has liked mirrors since she was small
she tells me herself that it has been since she was 3
I stand behind her and she informs me that there are 7 of me
I tell her that 7 of me could take over the world if I wished
with wide eyes, she nods and agrees
I express that she is better-suited though
she giggles

I am my mother's daughter
about to leave the world as I know it
staring at myself in the same mirror
barely recognizing the child that I once was
the person I am
the woman I could be

as the little girl leaves, she turns to wave good-bye
I put my hand up and hestitate
to say farewell to the familiar, comforts of life

yet I swallow my fear
run up to the glass door and wave
with eyes wise beyond her years
she looks at me and grins as if she knew
I was to be born again

now is the time
for me
and my 6 other selves
to come together
and
take a bite out of the whole world
or at least
pose, stomp, pout, whisper
and punch it
until I find what it is
that I am looking for