Coming to Warren Avenue
The spirit spiraled down, wings arched
like a sandhill crane, to that map,
to that address. From roundness to sharp edges,
from emptiness to the cup running over.
From sky to earth, the spirit was attracted, felt
the updraft of those who were leaving.
There was nothing to me when two people
began to love the idea of me into existence,
when skin came, when bones hardened.
It might have been the most difficult thing
I’ve ever done, that becoming, crying
my way into a world of confusion,
pulling on the weight, the muscle,
the blood. For a long time, I was startled,
gasping. But soon I could see and my hands--
small moons that had whirled around
in front of me—began to open and close
at my command, to touch the world.
One day—the others probably didn’t notice--
I settled into this body and for a while
needed nothing but skin and toes
to make me happy. Sounds came in
from the avenue, horns, a chime, and breezes
like fingers brushed over my new hair.