Ghazal For Harvey Dent

The most common misconception I hear is that “Two-
Face wasn’t always schizophrenic. Acid burned him in two,

split his mind right in half.” Somedays, I try to believe
it myself, asking heads or tails to see if it’s true. Two

times in recent memory I called right, the coin’s face
casting bright visage against mine. After canceling my two

psych appointments for the day, I tangoed with the staff
of Gotham’s Second National Bank, guzzled two

whole cases of Dos Equis myself, & felt the white-
strobe of hangover twice the next morning. For two

whole hours, my faces mingled and tangled jigsaw
in the reflection above the double vanity. In the two

identical mirrors, the images were interchangeable, clean
side of skin as ugly as the burned turned-blue. I tossed two

more coins, plinking atop marble as if to confess: Harvey, you odd
monster, no flip of silver will prove you’ve ever been less than two.