VOCABULARY
by Rachel Grey

A wrinkle makes a nest in my left cheek,
but I am growing younger.
Each day another certainty dissolves,
or another word blurs to double meaning.

Five years ago, so many things seemed clear.
I was drawn to boys, not girls. I used to care.
We’ve all read that these things are fluid,
but it’s hot and strange to be the one melting.

Are you a container whose shape I will take?
I hugged you hello for too long yesterday,
speech forgotten, as a year peeled away
and turned to heat deep in my belly.
When the ripples reached my hands I let you go.

So I can’t claim surprise. I could probably be frightened
but the light of a city shines through me today
and I am growing younger.
I would like you to teach me some new words.