There was once a woman
Who was more of a chameleon
Than a woman.
Anytime she wanted
She could slip into someone else’s body,
Disguise herself in their colors.
She could morph into her mother’s mulberry lipstick
And call herself out of school.
She could morph into her frenemy
And seek revenge, red splatter on frayed white pants.
She could morph into grandma’s bottled bronze tan
To buy beer and Marlboro menthols.
She could morph out of her own blues
Into warmer colors and warmer blood
None of those colors her own.
There was once a woman
Who was more of a chameleon
Than a woman.
Anytime she wanted
Company
She would slip into her brother’s shell,
Find a woman with a short skirt and white teeth,
To slip into her pink,
Safe alas
Charles K. Carter (he/him) is a queer poet and educator from Iowa who enjoys live music, yoga, hiking, and film. He has an MA in creative writing with a concentration on poetry from Southern New Hampshire University and is completing an MFA in writing from Lindenwood University. His works have been published or are forthcoming in Anti-Heroin Chic and Dodging the Rain.