Metamorphosis

in much the same way
that a moth, once freed from its cocoon,
flees into the sky away from itself,
I am falling away into something new

that calls me down into the depths of -
I, drag myself underneath the palpitating heart
and watch the clustered cells pulse violently
I, hide myself between the follicles of twisted hair
and watch the skin cells slough off

and become the wind and the snow atop mountain peaks.

I am made to watch those pieces which -
hitherto unconscious of their magnificence -
breathe new life into the wearied mind,
and show me that light I sought,
which Prometheus threw down to the curious Eve,

in much the same way
that a moth, once freed from its cocoon,
flees from the sodden ground it once called Paradise.

To He Who Holds My Heart

The feel of your arms
around my waist,
your lips, tender and wanting --

I lifted my face to yours
and fed your hunger.

Who I Am

Who am I?

I am not the wind or the sunlight,
though I have stood within them
and felt their kisses and caresses on my skin.

I am not the ocean or the rain
though both have caught me unaware
as I walked to school as a child,
or along the yellow shore, ignorant of the coming tide.

I am not the eggplants and zucchini
growing in my garden, though
they have sustained me
and made me smile with pride.

I am not my family, though
goodness knows how I have tried,
to please and become them,
they, the only ones closest to me, I know.

I am myself.

But I have not yet discovered who that is.