She mostly hangs out in the backyard
and comes around when there is a difference in the light –
when it is getting dark, when dawn is approaching,
amidst the cycle of day and night…
she appears then, making a mess of things.
“Who are you?” I ask her.
“Who are you?” she asks me.
“You must know who I am,” I reply, “because you follow me.”
“You must know who I am,” she says, “because you follow me.”
“Why are you out in the dark and cold?” I inquire.
“Why are you in the light and the warmth?” she asks.
“What do you want?” I question.
“What do you want?” she questions of me.
“You know what I want,” I state.
“You know what I want,” she repeats.
She lingers in corners, reminding me of who I don’t want to be.
She is feathery and lithe, sometimes hard to…
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