transitioning into a plum tree 

after surgery i craved foods i hadn't eaten for years.
they had me set up in the guest room. light came in the window
all times of the day. sun or street lamp. mostly, i wanted to be
alone. downstairs i heard my friend's family. the chirp of
pots & pans. the mumbling of the TV. i kept a jar of prunes
by the side of the bed--placing one in my mouth at a time
& pretending as if the prune might turn back into
a plum. i have never seen a plum tree so i 
Googled pictures. branches laden with fruit.
it was a bitter january. the prunes were so sweet.
the folds of their flesh syrupy-sweet as if they were
full of honey. i ate out of boredom some days.
i tried to keep routine. wake up at 9am i told myself
but never quite did. in my friend's bathroom mirror
i tried to take off my shirt to look at the scars.
couldn't lift my arms above my head. eventually got
the shirt off. i felt like there was no way
i was becoming anything. i wanted to take
the gauze off & be human again. or maybe 
not human at all but a plum tree thick with 
white flowers ready to swell into purple fruit.
i pressed myself into the bed like a flower.
i tried to read but could never focus.
i tried to walk along the creek nearby but never
had the energy. i filled my mouth 
with prunes. let the sweetness treat me
kindly. i swear i could feel the sun that dried 
each fruit though i'm sure they're made in a factory.
how dare a mouth provide such release. 
i was so sorry for being taken care of.
my mom texted me to ask to ask if 
she could see me. i don't remember what 
i said but she didn't & it wasn't her fault
or at least that's what i told myself.
i didn't cry at all the whole time.
no even at the hospital. i was brave,
i told myself. more accurately
i was asking each prune to teach my
something new about transformation.