the looking glass

no sooner do you receive the invitation
than you go to your closet, reflexively
grab expectation from its hanger, slip it on,

and give yourself a quick check
in the mirror. looks good, you think, 
without actually looking, as you

mindlessly press the little hanger nipple 
that you can never quite smooth out
on each shoulder.

expectation feels familiar against your skin,
is a long-time go-to. your body remembers 
when it seemed so intrinsic to your wardrobe, 

yet forgets the near-threadbare
wear and tear you’ve shared since,
not now noticing the habitual way 

you tug at the seams to keep
them straight, the way
this aged attire feels a little tight

no matter how often you fidget with it.
at day’s end, when taking it
off, your fingernail catches in the fabric

and rips threads loose: has expectation 
ever fit well? ever really pulled an outfit
together for you? ever measured up 

to its price-tag and assumed promise?
has it earned its staying power
during ruthless closet culling?

you hesitate, hanging in a walk-in space
of decision: will you place 
this relic back on its hanger?

—dotty seiter

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Notes about poem and art:
• Writing “the looking glass” was challenging and satisfying. I wrestled with both the development of the extended metaphor and the inner psychological work underpinning it. I’m grateful for the wrestling, grateful for the way the metaphor has continued to inform me helpfully in my day-to-day living.
• Painted during the Sketchbook Revival Challenge 2026 back in August, Press, Tug, Fidget is a trio of inchies that runs loosely in circles as I myself am sometimes wont to do in more ways than one.