D’après my brother,
I’m a slothful snail with bones
Frenching up my manicures with priceless nail varnish and parlances that taste sour for lack of definition.
D’après my mother,
I’m an ocean’s princess on an island shore
Brightening the waterways, someday all the boys will go crazy over me but that day is always
out of reach like a North Star nettling between fingertips in a dream, come morning the white-light wishes break, as seashells, dazed by the sun.
D’après my father,
I’m a spider lurking in the crannies that plague the penny pile
Waiting to strike out and bite the tongues of slower flying things and fat worming things alike, crouched in a cage of bones, cramming hummingbird cake past my forked tongue into an endless flabby mound.
D’après the ocean, I am the same.
Et moi? I see a reflection, fading, bursting, blooming, dissoluting, swarming, covering, loving, waning, waxing, dying, killing, crucifying, nipping thistles in the bud
according to whatever words shine back from the mirrors holding scales, facing me.