I am obligated to remember this; being small.
For weeks I recall nothing at all.
Once I was ordinary,
Lying under another’s sequoias tree.
When it thundered, I hid in a pit.
A Cratus is among us,
His three siblings too.
Mother, I am becoming another.
I must swallow it all.
I have never known,
“I don’t know myself”
In your light it is black.
Above the smoke it glitters.
It is not worth being hung about.
The doctor says it’s the seasons,
I say it’s the moon phases.

 

 

 

 

Inspired by Sylvia Plath