Which eye's his eye? Which limb lies Next the mirror? For neither is clearer Nor a different colour Than the other, Nor meets a stranger In this arrangement Of leg and leg and Arm and so on. To his mind It's the indication Of a mirrored reflection Somewhere along the line Of what we call the spine. He felt in modesty His person was Half looking-gla**, For why should he Be doubled? The gla** must stretch Down his middle, Or rather down the edge. But he's in doubt As to which side's in or out Of the mirror. There's little margin for error, But there's no proof, either. And if half his head's reflected, Thought, he thinks, might be affected. But he's resigned To such economical design. If the gla** slips He's in a fix – Only one leg, etc. But While it stays put He can walk and run And his hands can clasp one Another. The uncertainty He says he Finds exhilarating. He loves That sense of constant re-adjustment. He wishes to be quoted as saying at present: ‘Half is enough.'