The face

in the gleaming surface of

the water

so much like my own.

Yet there is some shadow

in that visage.

Some strange darkling.

Some madness

that surely I do not possess.


I reach out

with tentative hand,

but fall short of actual touch.

Something in those

ghostly eyes

causes me to snatch back my hand.

Some fear.

Some agony only half-remembered.


This reflection is not my insanity.

It cannot be.

Some trick of moonlight,

and the water’s gentle rippling.

Some phantom.

Some nightmare.


I close my eyes.


© 2003 by Jaimie L. Robertson, and may not be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including, but not limited to: printing, photocopying, or by any information storage retrieval system, or any other means, without written permission.


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