Narcissus on the Phone
“Who IS this?”
Narcissus
finally asks,
after doodling
his name six
different ways
on the reflective
face of an iPad,
belly-down
on his bed,
legs bent back
at the knees,
ankles crossed,
deciding he likes
best the one
linked in a rain-
bow chain
of tiny hearts.
A voice opens
like a seed
inside his head,
says with some
urgency, “It’s ME!”