The Ghost in the Mirror

 Each time I see the mirror,

A thick fog blankets it,

Nothing seems clearer.

I see everyone else,

I see them all,

Except for myself.

I see the scorching noon

And the raised brows

Of my uncles, aunts, cousins, and father

When they saw me combing a Barbie

And singing "pink is so my color."

My cheeks turn to tomatoes

When I recall

My mother beating me down

Because I stole her lipstick, her nail paint,

And dressed like a clown.

I nearly lose consciousness

Remembering the bullies

Pushing me to the corner,

Unable to race, wrestle, or kick,

Their favorite victim to pick.

I see eyes, countless eyes,

Eyes multiplying

On buses, planes, trains,

Mountains, beaches, and in rains,

Scanning and undressing

To my very veins.

I see hands, many hands,

Joining to form a band

To grope me, shame me down,

Every time they get a chance.

Now I hold a hammer and a wipe,

Capable of shattering it all,

Or wiping it clean,

But I do neither, and face it all.