under a tree
in the filtered sun of spring
I mistake the grimace of a rotting fox
for a tiger skin

and I remember
how in the school yard
I learned to walk
without myself
wearing my leg hair
like indifference

down the road
between an iris’ purple lips
a bee is sucked in
a creature sure of entry

and a koel cries
again and again
“are you?  are you?”

3 thoughts on “belonging

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