changeling 

sometimes i'll have otherworld memories
of before i was swapped into this one.
the ringing of the flowers & a cactus
with thirty mouths. as a child,
i was always trying to go back to being
a fairy. i have never been good at any 
of my changes. not a boy or a girl or 
a spy or a secret. i am trying to believe
that it could be a blessing to be a portal.
people visit me sometimes to speak
their pasts into my throat. i hold them.
let them turn into birds. my partner jokes
i have "tell me your life story" eyes. i am
not sure if that is a remnant of the previous world
or something i have learned in this one
in order to survive. that is the hardest part
about knowing i come from somewhere else.
i try to sort out all the pieces. which memories
are invented to try & salvage myself?
which ones are made of wood & which ones
are gasoline? there are rainbows in all kinds
of fires. i once walked away from town
with a bundle of white cotton-tooth flowers.
i had this feeling that i was going home.
why did i stop myself? i often wonder
if there was some mission i am neglecting.
changelings must have a purpose or else
maybe it is my job to make it. not all legends
are parables. instead, sometimes we are
writing another story of how everything 
falls apart. i have changeling friends. we never
admit that we know this fact about one another.
i can see it in their eyes. i picture my human child
in the fairy world & wonder if they are
are lost as me? if i had the chance, i do not 
think i would want to meet them.