(no subject)

Mirror Image

I catch my reflection
in the TV's dark square
and stop to stare.

This hair's pulled back,
but long strands escape.
Legs are folded
into an odd shape.

My left hand - her right -
scribbles in dim light.

We reach to push our glasses up,
and the movement has strange grace.
Our head tilts;
an intent look crosses our face

as if we're hearing
each other, or a muse.
Who are you?
we wonder, confused.

For somehow, at this moment,
under this light;
we've become
lovely
unexpectedly
in each other's sight.