I stand in the middle of a
Crowded Ballet Studio as you
Pull me, push me, shape me
Into what you
Wish I was.
Pulling my hair out of its
Roots until there’s nothing left
Nothing left of me.

I’m clenching my teeth, my fingernails digging
Digging into my palms.
I’m going to dance, run, write,
Scream
Away from you like
Thunderstorms in Santa Fe.
Sudden, unexpected, unstoppable:
That’s me.