Chameleon
The bones break, building
upon one another—each
vertebrae snapping, stacking,
until my limbs reach
the highest shelves. You say,
if only you were taller.
I blend into crowds.
Potatoes and bread are discarded.
This hunger becomes routine, as every
ring slips from my fingers. You say,
if only you took up less space.
I stop wearing sweaters,
stop wearing bright colors.
People walk through me
and my name finds no mouth. You say,
if only you were less noticeable.
You demand more.
I curl myself inside, my form
shifting like clouds
No mirror knows my shape.
I walk on my toes,
my heels never touch the ground
I love what you love
I hate what you do
I become
you
Note: First published in the Laurel Review Issue 55.2.
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Faces of Autonomy: A Poetry Collection
Poetry"The bones break, building upon one another-each vertebrae snapping, stacking, until my limbs reach the highest shelves." -From Chameleon. TW: Abuse, Grief, Loss, Violence. Poetry was never a genre I thought I would get into. I read very little po...
