She is already goddess fitted
this hungry shewolf
already made of something
that makes tides turn
passersby break their necks
for a tiny peek

But then—
somehow
she becomes more—
not by grand design
no flame or crown
just a shift
across her face
as if the air had just
let slip
her secret

And I know—
before she speaks
that I am there
somewhere inside
that quiet green ember
in her eyes—
turning her into a myth
into water