I don't know what's happening
but something does—and the ocean, the moon

from under water—
I watch dew rise into mist
I feel tides in my heart
in shells my own blood sings
already people are afraid
they won't look at my eyes
they're afraid and so am I—

afraid of the jasmine breaking out of my fingers
afraid of the thousand beetles in my hair
afraid of the wolf crying from my groin
afraid of the stars revolving in my belly
afraid of the snapping turtle in my spine
and the red-tailed hawk staring from my eyes—
a new world watching, trying to find the crack
where pines take root and shatter the rock—

I will fly before morning.


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