The bathroom mirror in the nursery

is giant and warped

and falling apart.

But there’s no fear

in this reflection,

just trees, glassy water,

a different me

against a bright-blue sky.

The more I look,

the more I think about who I see.

Just maybe

for the first time

I don’t overlook

or try to get away.

I don’t have to be my father

or perfect for Lisa

or anyone else.

Be myself.

Myself is okay.

I want this feeling to stay.

I want to know

that the next time

I look into those mirrors

this is the me I will see.

I take a breath, then

dunk my whole head into the pond.

I stay as long as I can.

Come up and take

another gulping breath.

Jorge! I say. The rabbi told me

that when I dunk myself in the water

and say certain prayers, it’s a mikveh.

It’s supposed to mean

I made a big change!

And then, more quietly,

Do you think I have?

He laughs and nods. He’s excited.

It’s called baptism! he yells

and walks over to where water

is coming out of my nose,

and I am coughing

and trying to talk all at once.

He pulls out his own little trinkets,

a map, his wooden cross,

a small vial, a smooth river

rock with the word faith

painted in white,

his sketchbook,

and two long pencils,

and sits next to me near the water.

On either side of the valley,

the trees flow down like

the river water.

I want to swim in the pond,

maybe go all the way under.

I take off my shirt.

I feel the air and the sun

on my skin.

It’s cold, Jorge says, already wading in the water.

I know, I say, but I’ve been wet all night

and all morning anyway.

I smile and look back.

Jorge smiles,

begins to say prayers.

I don’t know the prayers

for what I would say,

so I just listen,

say something in my mind to God.

When I think of God, I imagine the rabbi

telling me that I can do it,

that I already have.

I go in,

watch my reflection

in the water,

try to find the image

of the fat kid

staring back at me,

but this time it’s different.

It’s just the water that widens me.

I don’t see a fat kid,

not anymore.

I simply

see

myself.

I go deeper

beneath the pond water

until my breath has given

everything it has

and my face

breaks the surface

into sunlight and air.

Resting Place

I stretch out on the boulder

shivering, trying

to dry out in the sun.

Maybe that wasn’t the best idea?

We laugh.

I grab the last

of my beef jerky

from my backpack,

pull out

The Diet Book.

I need to look up

how many apples I can have.

Somewhere between