9.11.23

 Every day I make the same mistakes 

in new ways.

In the middle of the poem, 

a woman walks in. 

because she is beautiful people 

give her what she wants. 

they think they 

understand her, what she 

is about. 

this is a plain truth.

the world, like myself, works in simple ways. 

I am not this woman. 

Once, it was my assignment 

to become her. To become a girl, 

I made significant sacrifices. 

To become myself, I gave away

the rest I had.

The people I know, 

those shapeshifters I love

change their faces , bodies, 

and names. 

Nobody but us know 

what we are about. 

I roll their chosen names 

around in my mouth like 

candy, like prayer. 

I, too chose a new name. 

I tried to change, 

but I only  became more myself,

a strange monster 

with many faces.