Doppelgänger
Coming home late from wandering in my sleep
In search of that which goes ahead of chase
i saw the image of my form stretched on my bed
His looks - minus my glasses - through an impish mien
transfixed me
my sandals gently flapping on his soles.
i peeped into the mirror
and saw him hovering
over my upturned eyes.
Out of the window and still his eyes held me.
i was aware my room was lived-in:
my cigarette wasting in an arc of ash i rescued
my opened book advanced a page or two
(no great reader, thought i)
But when i saw him in my new shirt too
There was little i could do.
i turned as if to go
and thought i saw him beckon to me thus: _______))
i stripped
till limp as limbless on my bed
He gave myself up to him.
He's looking down this ball-point
and methinks i'm trying to say
what he wants me to think
and i'm not quite sure
if what he thinks i'd want
It seems to me
He MUST of needs have his mischief
But couldn't i do both
and bring him back to me
Yet he seems to be saying
how free i am
Mocking my ways as sham.
Then when my eyes keep drooping
i say - i think i'm saying to him:
Wait!
i'll trap you yet in my consciousness!
Abruptly i rise up not seeing him around and wonder
Where has he loped
What has he seen that i have not
Who has he met
[...] Read more
poem by T. Wignesan
Added by Poetry Lover
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