There is another who wears our face. He rises before us in the morning and Speaks before we have a thought. He keeps our appointments, Answers to our names, and Carries around our favorite sins like relics. The old Germanic tales said that To see your double was to see your death. Perhaps they were right. Perhaps he is the death we have been living. Saint Paul called him the old man, The self we must put off, Forged from ten thousand small consents. He is a distorted copy of