GRAVID GRAVITAS

Then I came to see my body as science fiction,

imagined myself an alien sprouting wings;

craved not pickles but calamari;

devoured tart apples, lemon drops, crystallised ginger;

saw my face, as if for the first time,

reflected back to me in the toilet bowl at 6 A.M.;

suddenly noticed the nasturtium’s leaves;

thought I heard grass murmuring beneath my feet;

gazed out windows as my belly rose like baking bread;

swore cinnamon scented the air I walked through;

took myself too seriously, considered myself a delicacy

smoked for days on a spit, succulent and sweet;

bumped into walls and fell down stairs

but landed, cat-like, right-side-up;

invented new words for waiting;

lingered too long on a note;

became the second hand ticking

inside each hour that moved.