Because you forgot me, I am weird in the world


Already I’ve changed—wallflower, paper flower,
hidden and pressed. My mouth a thin-slotted
door, an opening in the brush. Find the spot
on my neck where the evil eye can leer

unhindered. The forest crowds around me
to stare, blank-eyed, free of conscience,
those eyes see what I’ve become: a bride’s
narrow fingers, my hair a bereft knot

looking for solace. I know how to tidy
my heart, bite my tart tongue until it silvers
in my mouth. The crows’ black song circles
overhead, calling me out, calling me lost.