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.