Annihilation (2018)

I am the Shimmer / Crawling everywhere at once,

Annihilation (2018)
Photo by Patti Black / Unsplash

by Gabrielle Martin

My mother says I’ll always be her daughter and -

It’s like collaring a coyote I

Am wild I am not here I will

Consume you as you sleep.

I am your daughter like garlic is onions,

Like a crow is a falcon,

Like water is wine. Do you see?

I am the Shimmer

Crawling everywhere at once,

I am the shark-like rows of alligator teeth.

I cannot give you more or less than the shifting

Of flesh beneath my skin as it slices

Itself away piece-by-bloody-piece,

Revealing fur and muscle and need.

To become something other is to choose

To be born, even if no one else bears witness.

As I walk across the parking lot

You stare into my yellow canine eyes

Seeing them as baby blue, and tell me it’s raining

Under a banner of open clear sky.

Gabrielle Martin (they/them) is a poet living and working in Philly. Originally from Lancaster County, Pennsylvania, much of their formative years were spent shucking corn. Their debut chapbook, Gritty City, is now available from Moonstone Press. Find them on Twitter @crabbygabie.