Magpie
A self-portrait

She wears bright colours
sequins and jeans and words
la petite fille revolutionare—
There—across her chest.
Air vibrates when she sings
moving cotton-stitched-in butterfly wings
and shealways forgets to keep left.

She’s all scaped knees and elbows,
grass stains too, of course.
Children’s marks on a woman’s body
big hips and skinny legs.
she leaves spaces when she falls.
the concrete left bruised, people walk around
and birds pick up torn sequins
shining, lost and found.