At first I’d thought you were a sparrow,

your sweet words making me snuggle up to you

when I had no one else.

Then I thought you were a mustang,

for how else could you have taken me so far from home?

Later, you could’ve only been a porcupine

for you were stuck under my skin, pinned to my thoughts.

But was that a bear snarling at me,

a serpent hissing silver words?

No—for a sparrow cannot have talons,

a mustang is without fangs.

Against my better judgment I clung

to a hornet who stung me whenever I drew near.

I left, blistered, bleeding, vowing never to see my

shape-shifter again.

But surely you had to have been a path

for I keep coming back to you

no matter how hard I try to run away.