Self-portrait as the rabbit freshly freed, then scooped up by the hawk
I basked in the A/C
took pleasure in indoor delights
yet I could not help but
idolize that door: that
emblem of freedom and
all I could build
for myself.
At night I derived plans
figured the best way out
until my parents agreed:
It broke their hearts
but I had them convinced
that home was no home
for a sprightly young
Bunny; so they laid me down
in the grasses
reliving their own first departures,
assured doing the hard thing
must be right.
Joy and envy and that
ripped-off band-aid feel suddenly curtailed
by that predatory bird
with a heart only directed
to fresh meat.
Was I just not ready for such focused wings
such practiced swooping down
an algorithmic brutality
of nature
or was I just waiting
for the right hawk
in the wrong lawn
his hunger pangs awakened
choosing me for his harvest
and then you.
Self-portrait as a self-portrait poem
May I be so bold as to admit I feel at one
with the world around me?
That when a kitchen drawer slams
someone is shouting.
God, how humiliating,
identifying with mere mortals
with all that grows around me
and may die or be wrong one day.
____________
Selena Cotte is a poet, journalist & shapeshifter living in Chicago by way of Orlando. Her poems are published or forthcoming in journals such as HAD, Landfill, Ghost City Review & others. She can be found online @selenacotte, wherever you think that may work.