Stranger in the Hallway Light

The bulb had blown.

I walked to the bathroom in the dark

and the nightlight did what it does —

lit everything from below,

threw shadows up under each eye,

made the jaw go slack, unmoored,

gave the whole face

a quality of waiting.

Three seconds before I recognized myself.

Maybe four.

I stood with one hand still

on the doorframe,

watching whoever that was

watch me back.

The nose came first.

Then the particular way

I hold my mouth when I'm tired.

But those three seconds —

the face that was there before I arrived.

How settled it looked.

How long it seemed to have been standing there,

patient,

lit from the floor,

not mine yet.