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The Atheist of Mirrors


by Philip F. Clark


Don't mistake my mouth for yours.
My voice does not live in your cave; 

that sound you hear has no echo, 
it's your stone of lies. 

Don't mistake my skin for yours.
My body has its own house;

its roof is my imagination,
I still hammer the walls. 

Don't mistake my sex for yours;
my desire is not your door. 

Don't mistake my eyes for supplication.
My invisibility is your nightmare. 

Don't mistake the doctor for 
the midwife. What you bore 

in me has teeth. Here, come closer,
but don't mistake my kiss for keeping.  

Don't mistake my color for yours;
Mine will blind your despair. 

Don't mistake my children for your own;
My womb is another country.

Don't mistake my seeing for believing; 
I'm an atheist of mirrors. 


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