CALL ME BELOVED

To be loved is to be seen, and
I’ll never let them look closely –
that’s when the shot is fired, I’m
a deer in crosshairs, rabbit running,
all tall ears counting footsteps until
I’m safe, I’m safe, I’m safe, I’m safe,
the pulse of my heart pleading, please
this time please let it be true – I wonder
what soft prayers do prey whisper while
waiting for the danger to pass overhead –
the tall grass listens, the wind carries to
mother god, cosmos, whatever cares to
listen, and if I must be your eyes then
witness this suffering, you gave me this
paper skin, crooked, bird-hollow limbs –
you made my heart pound and plead as
I cower in the dark hollows of my chest –
if that final, fatal stroke isn’t coming now,
then when?