Your body has become
all elbows and knees

and lately you’ve
begun speaking

in riddles. This is not
my city. I don’t

have any answers.
And it will only

get worse–one day
I’ll  find you

admiring your own
wings in the bathroom

mirror. I’ll  think
I understand–

you have my horns,
my mostly impenetrable

scales–but I won’t.
How could I?

The world you’re
preparing for

is one
without me.