The stranger whom I introduce is me.
I greet myself and wonder, ‘Who is that?’
The manger, room where fleas are wont to be,
allows no sleeping dogs to bark the cat

but it shelters Shetland ponies parsing odes.
I greet myself in the manger and declare
I will get a penthouse when their parsing bodes
well or at least better. That seems fair

to middling. Yet to answer who is me
requires some introductions more or better.
I am, perhaps, the person that I see
in mirrors, or who tries to pen this letter.

2021 April Poem-A-Day Challenge — 1 April