Shadow Self L EX DIWA A LO R O
There’s a kink in my shadow: it stands while I lie down, it takes a step while I follow still flattened on the ground. They prefer my shadow better, it is perfect—pitch black. I pale in comparison to its darkness, merely trailing behind its tracks. My shadow leads the tango; it dances better than I do. People say it pirouettes while I stumble to the blues. Oh, the renown it garnered from gushing crowds impressed by gold! They cheer when my silhouette romps nearby in steps so bold. My shadow is a giant, it’s the first thing they see. And though I cast my shadow, it still overshadows me. There’s a kink in my shadow: it sits heavy on my chest. Serves me right for casting shadows so much bigger than myself.
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P O E T RY
