Self-portrait is all the things
I have been and yet
to become:

a sunburn
waiting to heal
and blend with the rest
of my skin, a scar

in my armpit
from a summer lump
that almost made me
miss graduation—waiting to grow
back until I can finally afford
health insurance, my dead

strands of hair with roots
so vulnerable they drain
my bathroom of menstruating
floodwater, soaking
my feet at every shower.

Self-portrait is all the places
I have been and yet to be:
a boiling beach, a university,
a house so small for a woman
like me yet cockroaches
treat as a mansion.
A dermatology clinic, an abortion
hospital, a flood-free city.

Self-portrait is all the smiling faces
I leave in each place I have been
and yet to be, and all the sorrows
I take with me in each
passing healing.