It’s not enough saying who I am
Not enough for a poem
Once you know I survived childhood
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Like a piece of trash strewn on the pavement
its crumpled brand reminds you of its chocolaty taste.
As Proust with the madeleine, your attention is caught,
and with it, my humanity appears.
Demeter was clearing the weed when Persephone
erred beyond the horizon. She trespassed boundaries
and Demeter rescued half of her. For the rest she conceded.
I cannot erase myself; Am I the difficulty, really?
Like Persephone I engendered my invisibility
my excuse-me smile shield,
pregnant with naked ingenuity,
I grew manifold facets,
tormented on the question of normality,
but at last,
bursting with these words today.