offspring what if i was someone else's daughter? if i walked out into the scraggly grass of the backyard the house on franklin street two-year-old hands ripping out dandelions & daffodils-- if barefoot & kidney bean toes-- laughing at the buzz of carpenter bees as they ate the garage-- they carry me away-- biting the back of my t-shirt to bring me home to the hive-- if you peered out the kitchen window to check on me & i was gone-- how long would you have searched for me? i don't ask out of malice-- i just want to know how long it takes to become something else's child-- maybe it would be the herons-- they'd watch me from the creek-- dipping bills in water-- waiting for the right moment to put me on their backs & dash off-- would they teach me how to have long legs? would i acquire a taste for river fish or would i chew pond scum in protest? maybe the wolves-- oh yes maybe the wolves-- like those little girls they found Bengal India are we feral girls? i think i would have taken to the wolves-- the ones that lingered near the rail road tracks-- escaped from the surrounding mountains all fours-- i might have gone willingly-- teeth growing into thorns-- oh mother & father forgive me i cannot help the wild onions in me-- spine contorted-- what kind of poetry would that leave me? & when the leaves turned in autumn & you gave up searching for me would you hear the wolves howling & think that maybe i had been eaten-- or maybe it was the sigh of a passing train-- i like to think i'd be the same boy carpenter bee born heron son-- beaks & stringers-- what off spring will they make of my body-- it's not too late you know? i'm not little anymore but there's always going to be the mountains to crawl back to-- always the train tracks that remind us that our own bones resemble step ladders-- if i disappear don't look for me-- leave my room empty to fill with bees & lady bugs & when the moon is full & my tall legs dip in the creek you might hear me-- the mountain off spring the boy-girl of reeds & grass