And then leg-shaped tree trunks grew
where my legs had been
and my skin calcified so I was
a barnacle
on the side of something large, vague
my heart no longer muscle but
a clock in a box
I am governed now by a clock in a box
I am aware of all my
circuitry
its tendency to misfire,
all the gaps and faults along the wires
but while I am here I am
beating back the choking vines
and moving forward,
I hope.