Ostracized
we run
Deep into the night
fleeting, or
fleeing,
we are gone.

Smoke in the park;
color at dawn.
Powder in your pupils
and blood on your mind,
they are gone.

Hiss at me,
alley cat with
eye clawed shut,
and scramble away
from my hand—
because human keratin
looks so much like claws
to the ones blinded by them before.
It is gone.

Who are you again,
they ask after you change,
a metamorphosis
unstudied.
You are gone.

You cuff your jeans
snip at your hair
fail your math quizzes
tuck in your shirt
and whistle
The Neighborhood;
I watch you run.

Because you know
who you are
but you still never will;
because you know
Who You Are—
(I help you hide,)

But you will
Never Be That
until you are recognized.

(Where are you?)