I was a student of whispering in the dark,
of small creatures scuttling and flowers
pried open with my lips. I was a moon
that fell out of earth’s moon and landed
on a lake. My reflection told me the secrets
of herbs mixed with desire, and I mixed magic
with sorrow to make a man. I mixed mud
with freedom and dried it into a vessel
for tears. I walked round and round the break
of waves and broke my faith. I broke bread
with bone broth and frog legs as I braced
myself for the fire that would breeze
into me. The man I made found me inside
a cat’s eye and I denied nothing. I was a student
of the way a bee and its sting can be harnessed
for strength, the way the night sky opens its spine
so we can read it, the way the heart is a sorcerer
manifesting what it feels—no matter
how saintly, how evil—into being.