My mother calls me
a jack-in-the-box,
for I cannot stand still
No such thing as
staying in one place:
instead, I seek adventure
New rooms and retreats,
endings and beginnings —
places to hide,
the distant glow of sunlight
seeps into my room,
pinned to a quiet corner
I am everything at once,
the best chameleon there was:
the underbelly of darkness,
a taste of rooftop skylight
Within my soul is Bila,
the goddess of the sun:
with fat lips and a tight throat
I cough back the tears,
clean myself off with a rusted rag
for yes, I can
still shine
My mother calls me
a jack-in-the-box
I am springing to life, leaping for life,
or so
she tells me
I taste shock and surprise
as I cross
the final hurdle:
to barge through the trapdoor,
to plunge my way out of the dark
and greet my counterparts
with a smile