ORIGIN STORY

I was born into a shopping cart, pushed through a parking lot

By a manic aunt. I was just a skeleton then, but already waving

Like a mayor, though only the secret trashcan women were out.

My aunt’s eyes were wild, she had insane wheat brewing

The field over, she’d spent all her money on overpriced

Notebooks, her torso was woozy with bad decision Tetris.

I cowered, my skeleton pelvis rattled against the metal cart.

Oddly, the trees weren’t changing much, no matter how far

We ran, they all sang the same nursery rhymes and patted

Me down with their big hands. I had my first rash of beauty

When the night began slow dancing with a whistle from

Earlier in the evening, which remembered itself as we passed.

The whistle laughed in the night’s arms. With a pang I knew

This romance would end, whistle and night would become

Simple farmers, combing our foreheads over with rakes,

But the pang eased as I thought of human extinction and

The slow growth of species over the earth, its face restful

As a mother turning on the microwave. So gradually, over

The course of the shopping cart ride, I learned to speak

In a manner hospitable to plants, in a manner hospitable

To humans and the cows who raise them from the dead,

In a manner that wouldn’t embarrass my windmill and cause

Him to cover his eyes with his arms. The convenience store

Milk jugs were sweating, and the parking lot dog’s head

Was an angry basket of flowers, considering. I could feel

My aunt getting tired at last, we’d been running forever,

And by the time my childhood ended, my aunt, she was gone.

How the worms moaned and turned over in their living

Graves that night! I walked home in electronic rags,

As if Zeus had ripped up a lightning bolt to make me,

A loose collection. The flower-dog was now a toilet

Calm and white; then a refrigerator, murderous with

Weight, groaning with meaning; then a bunch of forks

Dumped into the sink at once. The vibe was decidedly

Domestic but I was still learning the ways of the world,

So I tied ribbons over my face, fell asleep in my own palm.

When I woke up, whatever is out there, always ranging,

Sniffed me over at great length, like I was an angel

Carved from soap, or a trash woman bearing secrets

From her nighttime vigil, and that feeling of being sniffed

Over, head to toe, that’s what I’ve been after ever since.