callisto & arca

a son always returns as the hunter.
his golden bow at his side.
moon hanging like a beam of sugar
across the forest's bearded wild. 
woman inside a bear 
inside a prick of light.
the sons we leaven just to see
them harden into caskets of bone.
my days on four pillars. taking 
whatever the trees will tell me.
i miss nothing about womanhood
besides when, on a rare night alone,
i might glimpse myself in a pool.
notice fabric draped across
my body & think, "i am nothing
but a future constellation." 
for most myths we know what is coming.
told our own stories as children.
followed what was promised. 
the gravity of zeus. to think 
i once believed i could escape.
could become a common girl
& have no stories spun around me.
that was arrogant though
because all girls have stories
weaving them. who doesn't want
to be twice-told. yes, it is me.
your mother in the body of a bear.
arca, you haven't grown at all
since you were just a shard of glass
in my chest. now, let me be your father.
i can show you what it means 
to truly capture. come closer,
do you not understand? i am about
to become nothing more 
than a spilled handful of stars.

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