after Nicole Nicholson
She stood looking
into a pallid lake, saw ripples dancing
through her liquid nose and kinked belly,
mixed with a scurry of black and a drudge of green.
As if she were just a myth.
As if she were a spell that could be broke
as soon as a hand broke the water.
Her brother swept in, quite a sight
on a blanket from his bed instead of a magic carpet.
He looked at her with a face simple as dough
and she wondered what he would say.
He did not speak, just reached into his pocket –
at first she thought he was trying to pay for something, but he dropped a crow feather
into her reflections forehead, like a third eye
meant for something other than vision.
In that moment, she felt her powers grow,
like there were towers sprouting in her rib cage.
Her bones became highways, her veins became waterfalls,
her heart was a spiraling ferris wheel
crowded with children. She reached into the water,
pulled her reflection over herself like a cape and said,
“Only I have the rights to my glory.
Only I have the rights to my song.”
Note: I was trying to write a character in an alternate space like Nicole’s Anteekwa. Possibly to be continued?