To see one’s own doppelgänger is an omen of death.
The doppelgänger casts no reflection in a mirror.
 
Shelley saw himself swimming towards himself before he drowned.
Lincoln met his fetch at the stage door before he was shot.
 
It puts me in mind of prisoners interrogated,
of one telling his story so well he could see himself
 
performing in it, speaking the very words he spoke now,
seeing the face of the accomplice he had invented.
 
When all is said and done there is nothing more to be said.
No need for handcuffs or any other restraint. They take
 
a swab of his sweat from the vinyl chair in which he sat.
Should he ever escape his prison the dogs shall be loosed.
 
Your death stands always in the background, but don’t be afraid.
For he will only come to fetch you when your time has come.