I am a symptom of a larger paradigm: men who awaken
from a sleep we’ve never fallen into
Some might say we’re born into it, this half-sleep of thousands
But in this collection of nymphs, our adult bodies
pull out, incomplete. We haven’t changed the way we need to change.
And who can blame us? It takes time to come all the way,
and staying through winter tattoos risk on our necks.
It’s a kill-off if the ice we bury ourselves in is as wicked as we know it can be.
Last year, we froze to death. This year, we try to rise, to come through, to complete.
I still feel
and I dream of wings unfurling, shaking dry, humming. In this waking dream
the wetlands have warmed, and we’re growing, finally.
 Inspired by the study of dragonfly nymphs.