Portrait of a Girl, moved

I am pale knees and rooted

riverbank. I am Narcissus and his

reflection. I am consuming myself

with adoration. Why shouldn’t I

hope? My hands can still grip

a dandelion stem — my shins are still

skinned — I weave blades

into my hair because I like to

be bled. I spray myself

all over the walls, and I become

my ripples. I am

disrupting myself for change.

My desires are manifested

as cal de sac. I trace myself. I

do not wait

for collision. I am desire manifested

as spiral staircase.

I can never

go backwards. I

can never go backwards.

I grow

flowers 

when I cry — the river

erupts as I do —

I am flurry —

synesthesia — fog. I 

do not flinch when felt, I

can be touched

in the right places.

I am lotus

unfurling — blood

leaves erupting

in evergreen. I am Narcissus, dancing

underwater. Though I 

cannot taste my

tongue, I am known 

by the mouth

in motion. I am

hourglass and excavate.

I am the memorial

parade that celebrates

time.