I am a stanza written in thought
Waiting for an enjambment
To change my structure
My sound
My texture

I am a metaphor dug from the creases of a mind
Waiting for awkwardness
To change my meaning
My depth
My standing

I am a word stroked by an erasable pencil
Waiting for my brothers and our mistakes
To change my job
My being
My constructed family


I am a poem started by a ballpoint pen
Waiting for a poet
To change my tone
My language
My attitude

I am a stanza, a metaphor, a word, a poem!
Waiting to be thawed
To change my taste
My texture
My depth
My being
My attitude
To be raw to the bone!

I am raw poetry