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paper mirror 

Marcus Amaker | Poetry

when i
write my name
with my left hand,
i instantly
find him there:

6-year-old me,

looking
back through
a paper mirror
of sloppy lines,
& quirky,
anxious-looking
letters.

there’s a
6-year-old
person
in our house,

& she
has already
learned
how to
shape her name
perfectly,

how to hold
a pencil steady,

how to
notice herself
becoming herself.

& when i watch her,
i’m reminded
of the kid
inside of me,

whose handwriting
would become
his solace
in adulthood,

& who never
wrote
love letters
to himself
until he
became
a father.

maybe i
should write
this poem
with my
left hand,
just to tell myself:

you made it.