barkskin

Seth Leeper

i cut myself out of you so i could explore the ocean - i grew tall and agile so i could fit between crannies of rock formations - i became putty so i could undulate myself against the torsos of men - i became a cylinder so I could slide off their bellies then became a trunk so i could find my footing again - i burned my barkskin when i heard the whispers in my branches - as an ember i floated towards the clouds until their precipitation revived me and bestowed me with wings that rushed me farther away from you - i chased the winds across continents till i arrived at the highest peak - i slept in permafrost till i felt the lava at my heels that pulled me down into the caverns of the earth - where i cooked in the soups of our mother’s kitchens before she spat me out as matter and molded me into that form you first envisaged - and now i’m here again standing head and shoulders before you - with only the desire to crawl back and stitch myself inside you - knowing i must instead accept this gaze from a familiar stranger