By Naomi Ayala
I can do anything, so I try yoga nidra
to see if I can find him.
He’s been dead four years now
though I tell people when they ask, two. Just two.
My mind refuses what it wants
even if I haven’t lost anything.
One day I caw like a seagull
swooping in for a long dive.
Another, I am hunger waking up the bear.
Today I go to the trees to listen
and he is an old cedar, but sweeter than that.
When I was a girl, I knew I’d never be a girl exactly.
He was the only one who knew it
and let me run wild, would never tell the others.
Source: Poetry (November 2019)
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