grown up

do you remember when 
we were weasels eating
the rotten face of a summer squash?
i wish i could be as pink
as i used to be laying 
in the grass & not thinking
about all the bugs who know
my name. centipedes & black widows.
i had always believe i would
grow up to be an obelisk.
a marker of where the birds had come
& died like airplanes. sometimes 
i call my parents & when they answer
all i hear are blender sounds. 
they are spitting out the old bullets
& making protein shakes 
with the darkness. i could have
grown up to be a firework.
i could have flashed. fantom gunshot.
instead i am here collecting golden rod
& praying to a plastic shopping bag heaven.
but back to being rodents.
i saw you & loved you. we ate anything 
the sky spat out. reached in knuckle deep
& twisted until the moon had fins.
a shark in the sink. running barefoot
past any kind of tether. i have
a bank account. in fact actually two.
i do not plan to become a permanent
kind of prophet. instead, i will
keep talking to the stones
until they tell me something i don't know.
"wide awake," one says. "so that you don't 
go hungry," says another. i do not intend 
to be a person with a garage
& i will never be someone 
with a flag pole. i will be a flower spinner.
a dragonfly host. a crystal chicken. 
i will make shrines in my bones
to the purple mouth i used to have
when i ate the precious gems
out of every single corner.