On growing

stuffed animals are filled 
with meringue & other sweet clouds.
i've had the same stuffed teddy bear,
we've come to know each other,
talking late into the night
about our bodies 

when i was 8
we would share clothes,
my red zip-up hoodie, my scratchy 
wool gloves, my knit winter hats.
sometimes she goes into my closet,
wistfully wrestling with 
my monster clothing.
she weeps because i'm big &  
she wants to be big too.

she sits up now at the foot 
of my bed,
her blueberry bead eyes
blinking in the light from
the garage

i tell her "go to sleep beary"

she stands up & tells me that
she needs to grow too.

in the kitchen she opens her
mouth full of candy corn
& knitting needle teeth, she
growls like i've never heard her,

swallowing handfuls of granola  
&  cups of coffee

i watch from the doorway & feel
myself getting smaller & smaller

beary chews wildly, she says
this is what adults eat right?
as she snaps another protein bar
in half-- as the coffee pot spills
over & onto the floor

in a small body i totter over
& hold onto her leg.

i inspect my fingers to
find them soft & apricot-like,
my night shirt, huge, all
the way down to my knees

beary picks me up & asks
are you hungry?

i play along & let her 
make me warm milk on the stove
it makes her happy

i tell her that this has
gone on too long 
& i take her to the bathroom
where she open her mouth
& lets me pull out handful 
after handful of stuffing,
opening the window to let
them out to be clouds again,

as i do i grow again
& i cry because the milk 
was sweet & the kitchen's a mess
& she fits in my arms
& i carry her back to bed,

i tuck her in & say
sleep