by Elora Sinéad Bentcik
ghost of my former self left many things behind:
graphite scrapes, smudged through crumpled paper
cherry stained lips and hair pinned to my femininity
wings of charcoal lined my eyes with precision
wine-tinged 90’s homunculus that carried me to college
littered with a fear of being alone and a discoball of cds
some things from the past have remained unchanged,
video games, vinyl, and books mingle on the shelf
canvas shoes caked in sand and seawater
but the ghost of my former self has changed
shape, form, and mind
evolved to the next stage like a tadpole
a frog shuffles through muddy water
ripples of clarity
much has changed in the decades of myself
I, now ‘they’, have come alive in her place: a parent, partner, artist
wind wooshes like waves to soften my edges like a tumbled stone
my hair a braided tumbleweed draped over tie-dyed sweatshirts
floral blouses abandoned for billowy graphic tees
bare faced, freckles anchored to an auburn
sunrise