Poem: I Thought I’d Know by Now

At two weeks

before twenty-two I feel

like I’m living in

a different body,

my face softer,

my mother in the mirror.

I go through all the motions,

my tallest five foot three reaching

to pull a pasta box

from the kitchen cupboard,

my numbest human form

pouring hard noodles

into a burbling pot.

I delight in the music

of tumbling pieces splashing

into the water.

I stir the starch away,

smile in front of the stove.

I thought I’d know

by now

who I am,

but here,

stirring steam,

I have transformed

into something else entirely,

softened

by the damp heat.