The mirror is too loud tonight

The mirror is too loud tonight.

It’s shouting about the bags under my eyes

and the way my mouth looks like

a line drawn by a shaky hand.

I was brushing my teeth in the dark

to save myself the trouble.

Then I hit the switch.

There was a hair—just one—

clear and stiff, a silver wire

sticking out of the mole on my chin.

It was shivering in the white foam

of the toothpaste. It looked like

a distress signal from the person

I’m supposed to be becoming.