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.