Isabelle Correa

COMING OF AGE

When I was a child I was not a child.
I knew about Death, the man

with high cheekbones
who stood over me in my dreams.

I could not move and this aroused him.
He did not move with me.

I would wake and stare
into the mirror,

remembering him. He loved me
like he had no choice.

The mirror told me to turn into a woman
and I obeyed. No, I have

never been in my right mind. No, I have
everything left to give. 

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