I am no longer what I once was

Of course, none of us are. 

The stuff that we are made of 

vibrating differently now. New 

shapes, unfamiliar textures; transformed.

And I wonder what I did to deserve this.

The blazing efflorescence of late girlhood

aborted in a moment. A cracked egg.

A last look. A star

exploding.

Over.

We are graceful in our bondage

our ribbon necks and dark mask faces, 

the ruffling snow-white of our feathers.

We glide and we waft across the luminous

gloss of water. Our reflections echo, mocking us.

Reminders of what we have become. My

sisters; these lost girls. We are all

the same now. 

We continue our water dance throughout the night.

The moon rises, light-filled and helpless—she has nothing

for us.