spectrophobia is the morbid fear of mirrors. somehow different than eisoptrophobia—the fear of one’s own reflection—though i’m not sure how. a journal of psychology states that the difference is that spectrophobia is found in those traumatized by an event where they believe they have seen an apparition. still i’m not sure i understand the difference. my eye is a deep stain in my faceimagine a razor blade slitting it like a cloud over Dali’s moonblue in the way a broken pen spoils a shirt. in the right light, the soft yellow light of morning, dirty mirror almost resembles a portrait under waterwith your hands bound behind your back the thrash of your drowning is quieter than a running bathtub’s waterand i remember the names of every river i’ve ever imagined drowning in. it has taken me so long to stand in front of a mirror without flinching. i pick up a pair of scissorsto cut your hair or your wristand put them back in the drawer. run the water until steam rises like broken question marks. glide a razor over my cheekif you pressed deep enough you could peel all these imperfections awaytrying to hide the coarse hair breaking through my skin. i stare into the mirror and try to remember that it is the light that bends my face, the mirror that creates the distortionyour fist can split a mirror into 1000 hungry knives, they are singing your name. will you answer them back? we are always singingnot the other way around.