Reflection Sonnet
Listen, my dog likes to stare
into mirrors. She’s not narcissistic—
she believes her reflection’s a captive
companion confined behind glass,
a trouble-free and safe friend
with doppelgänger traits
at her bark and call, unable to steal
from her bowl or invade her space.
Almost makes me look forward
to when I can’t recognize my own
reflection, though I doubt that this
will ever happen: Even after you
couldn’t recognize me, Dad, you still
recognized yourself in mirrors.
Kenton K. Yee’s recent poems appear (or will soon) in Plume Poetry, Threepenny, Terrain.org, TAB, Constellations, Grain, I-70, Hawaii Pacific, Sugar House, Healing Muse, McNeese, Magazine of Fantasy & Science Fiction, Strange Horizons, Asimov’s Science Fiction, and Rattle, among others. Kenton holds a PhD in theoretical physics from UCLA, law and business degrees from Stanford, and taught at Columbia University. He writes from Northern California.
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