From the Mythic Delirium Books archives
This Illusion of Flesh
Virginia M. Mohlere
There is no seal-skin to find, no moon-drawn transformation. No muttered spell or clay pot reeking of rendered fat and henbane. Change is the glint in my eye, the blurred outline of my shadow. Come argue with me over what is “real.” I tell you I have no need to ache, to stare at the horizon and wish for Other. All the others are here: Wolfness in my mouth. Shoulders split by wings. Feet sunk into the planet’s bones and time running in circles, as it always has, as it should. With the moon, the tide, the season, the will— inside this skin I create and destroy. Rise up from your own sea. I will not name you. Make your own worlds.
“This Illusion of Flesh” first appeared in Mythic Delirium, Issue 26, Winter/Spring 2012.
“This Illusion of Flesh” copyright © 2012 by Virginia M. Mohlere. This poem may not be reproduced in any form without the author’s express written permission.