Thoughts from a Thinking Girl

The fatted calf awaits

its unbeknownst sacrifice

not the only to suffer the forgiven’s return.

The foal heat signals

false readiness, coupling too soon

for my body to sustain.

The feared self manifests

the dreaded future here

my transformation inescapable.

The fluted glass prolongs

effervescence, bubbles float up, tickle your nose

before I sour and flatten.

The fated poem writes

and rewrites itself, ushers

me out of silence, into existence.