His Reflection
Parts of my father slip away gradually,
the loss of his core being
a punch to the gut
the day he didn’t know who I was
or even who he was —
his own reflection that of a stranger.
I caught his familiar
glinting eyes in the mirror
and know he’s in me,
in my DNA,
in the blood circulating in me,
part of him
alive in me,
keeping me alive,
like he’s become
part earth.
Miriam Manglani lives in Cambridge, Massachusetts with her husband and three children. She graduated with a degree in English from Brandeis University and works full-time as a Technical Training Manager. Her poems have been published in various magazines and journals including Sparks of Calliope, Red Eft Review, One Art, Glacial Hills Review, and Paterson Literary Review. Her poem, “They’ve Come,” was a finalist for the Beals Prize for Poetry. Her poetry chapbook, Ordinary Wonders, was published by Prolific Press.
The Marbled Sigh 