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i was born this way
i didn’t make the choice
it just happened
it’s how i look at the world
in detail
in the blink of an eye
in the way moon slips into the ocean
silver ripples
on a black sheen
in the lovers glance
the electricity
they transmit
to each other
alone in a room
filled with other people
how can I not feel
that tingle spark
tickle up and down my spine?
how can I not remember?
i didn’t wake up one day
in second or seventh grade or even ninth
and decide
i didn’t even realize
i just knew what I felt
that i was permeable
i drink each experience
i grow full and heavy
with word
people will ask me
-what do you do?-
such a vague and familiar question
i breathe words
i exhale
onto a page
i answer
-i am a poet
i was born this way-
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