The speaker in the next poem is a twin.
An identical twin.
[CLEARS THROAT] I was thinking about the phenomenon
of identical twins.
Which is, I think, endlessly fascinating.
And it occurred to me that, in a way,
identical twins, sort of, make manifest what
exists for all of us.
Because we, the rest of us who don't have a twin,
carry out twins inside of us.
Our doubles.
"Identical Twins."
"Because we call for the moon at exactly the same moment,
it rises over the hard packed snow.
Nor can we differ about the snow.
Whether it has to do with dying or as the merciful blank page,
we need to start over.
Sister, you and I need no mirror.
It's the others I wonder about, the twinless ones,
who move their lips or mutter, as they walk to work and back,
inventing you.
A head, a body, a voice as true and familiar as their own,
replying, yes, yes, yes.
Most of the time it's their eyes turned inward
which betray the conversation.
I think of them, hurrying home tonight,
locking their doors to be alone with a lost indispensable twin.
Who waits, a brilliant mirror, on the other side of the dark."