Becoming Myself

On the first day after my bee sting, my tongue began to swell and protrude

from between my lips, forking and branching at the tip

On the second day after my bee sting, crisp, translucent pouches formed on my lower legs

fringed by stiff hairs

On the third day after my bee sting, long, thin appendages sprouted from my scalp

flagellum, pedicel and scape

On the fourth day after my bee sting, my eyes began to compound

the world receded into small, flat, colored pieces of glass

On the fifth day after my bee sting, and extra pair of legs sprang from my striped thorax

sharp with tarsus and spurs

On the sixth day after my bee sting, crystalline, segmented wings adorned my back

glimmering in the setting sunlight

On the seventh say after my bee sting, my own stinger came in

gland and muscle, sac, blade, venom and pump

Rich and thick scents hung syrupy in the air, enticing

Plants and flowers took on a dizzying purple glow

Now I lift off, I buzz and glide

No mortgage

No job but this

No taxes or insurance or papers to fill out

No account numbers, no passwords, no

lines to stand in or freeway exits enveloped in smog

Hovering over stamens dusted in gold

I am teeny, breakable

fleeting and

finally real