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I surprised myself.<br />
It is the truth you don’t want—<br />
When I finally crawl<br />
Out through the shatters and splinters,<br />
Onto the steep and thorny path.<br />
I am a curious specimen,<br />
Pinned and stuck, fruit fly on a glass slide.<br />
I have been called crazy, or other<strong>wise</strong>.<br />
The guilty chromosome shows itself,<br />
Peeking from the protein threads<br />
A stranger among the ordered helix,<br />
Revealing herself, at last.<br />
I am what makes you yourself.<br />
I wish I could tell you it will be easy.<br />
It won’t.<br />
The weird birthmark I tried to hide—<br />
To wash away with pink soap bubbles,<br />
Cover with cosmetics.<br />
She is my talisman, my voodoo priestess<br />
I hand her yarn, and a candle,<br />
We chant and dance,<br />
Spin wild in ecstasy, then she tells me—<br />
Climb out.<br />
You’ve been asleep too long.<br />
Voodoo princess, curious genome, wide-eyed strange child . . .<br />
Pack the past and curl it in thread,<br />
Tuck it under your pink pillow.<br />
Chant and dance.<br />
Burn it,<br />
Burn it.<br />
!
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