Before I could be loved
I had to be built.
Like Frankenstein,

she convinced her beast of its esteem
so that I peeked over clouds
and saw the world as it spun.

It was inevitable that the tethers
would release. I journeyed
toward cliffs, falls, alone

needing to affirm myself
against new, sightless limits
unbounded by the good doctor,

believing, all this time,
it was not her shoulders
on which I walked.

PUBLISHED IN Voice & Verse Poetry Magazine (ISSUE 44, December 2018)