How is it, tell me, that this new self can be -- and so quickly? God knows, none is the lord of his own face or ever was. So what accord of rearranging nuclei changes me into this alien now so familiarly staring from the bathroom mirror? What word reforms my mind and all its wretched hoard of worn-out feelings suddenly fresh and free? Woman, I'm not sure of much. Are you? More and more I believe the age demands incertitude. I am no one. Yet your hands, touching, word-like, can make a person. Who is the strange new myself? Woman, do we know the I of love that you in love bestow? Used with the permission of Copper Canyon Press, P.O. Box 271, Port Townsend, WA 98368-0271, www.cc.press.org | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...AFTERGLOW by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON THE BATTLEFIELD by EMILY DICKINSON TO THE UNKNOWN EROS: BOOK 1: 16. A FAREWELL by COVENTRY KERSEY DIGHTON PATMORE THE CATARACT OF LODORE by ROBERT SOUTHEY CAROLINA [JANUARY, 1865] by HENRY TIMROD YOU MAY REMEMBER by LULU PIPER AIKEN IN ENVY OF COWS by JOSEPH AUSLANDER A TALE OF VILLAFRANCA; TOLD IN TUSCANY by ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING |