The Children of Narcissists Are Likely to Attract Narcissists Into Their Lives as Adults

by Elizabeth Ogle

I like the way he says raison d’etre.
I like the turquoise shimmer of his plumes.
His songs are like night songs.
His words are the tongues of some distant flaming star:
The way I’ve fixed my hair makes me look like a goddess.
My nail polish is awful.

He writes, Women, women, women, in a room with a high ceiling.

We dine together.
I know the main course.
I know the taste of my own flesh.
Do you think I’m attractive ?
Reply express.
In a far mirror I notice I have taken on his expression.
I am a slither of gold around his immortal arm. What’s the point
of biting ?

Drink!  What is heavy jewelry ?
He extends his tweed sleeve to me —
He loves me!
He accessorizes.

Is my body marble ?
I may exist, but a cloud, a cloud.

He writes, Woman, woman, woman,
and it sells
and I read it.