Kim Salac
Media Staff

I can’t bear
To draw self-portraits of myself.
I don’t trust mirrors
And I don’t trust my eyes.
I search for myself in the looking glass
Just as I search for myself in
TV screens and book pages
in vain.
We fancy ourselves
But to not see color
Is to not see me.
I am unseeable in
the classroom
the party
the mirror.

If I stare too long,
My body in the glass
Stops looking like a reflection
Stops being my body
And becomes a mere container
Mere flesh
A black hole
For my fears and self-loathing
I see new curves and lines
On my skin
That form the outlines of
These words
My prison.
This body
That I will not claim.

My see-through skin
Reveals wires and gears.
My smile is inhuman in the mirror
I was made
To be a cog.
One of many
Many of one.
An imposter, a copy
I am replaceable

I can’t bear
To draw self-portraits of myself
Because crayons never matched my skin
And I could never make my eyes look
So I write this self-portrait
Because if I am unseeable
I will write myself into existence.
These pages
My mirror,
These words
My body.