she's the cause of false beliefs

My Ego 

 

is a dented suit of armor, a designer gown 

with grimy lining. She's the cause of false beliefs. 

She fucks up my ability to love. She's prickly 

and tender as an artichoke heart. She proposes 

to me so frequently I can't hear other people 

speak. She's a self-anointed guide who materializes 

at my side with a flourish of trumpets and a bullhorn. 

She's a forged love letter, a jailer impersonating a 

friend. She's a series of flashbacks in which I'm 

both victim and hero. I try to bribe her into exile, 

but she calls herself my servant and falls weeping 

at my feet. I'm forever banishing her, this mistress 

of disguises, even as she clambers back into my lap, 

begging my pardon and getting all kissy with me, 

grabbing my hand and jamming it down her blouse. 

 

[Amy Gerstler {1956- },'My Ego', from Index of Women]