Charm

Am I plastic enough. Did I
mold to the right shape—obedient
as water—feel hot, cool, smooth

to the touch. Was I flexible,
was I blue-green, and when dirty,
need just a slick of soap, and then

did I hold you in and repel
all else. Could I take it, heat, cold,
frozen, molten, could I

cover it up. Could I wrap myself
around what you wanted kept,
invisible almost, clear as ice. Could I stretch

and not crack, when I broke
could I break down to powder, to glitter,
to nothing, you hope,

to lace fish or bird or whatever
else except your flesh, could I stay
away from you, when told, get out

of your face. Was I buoyant. Was I
suddenly everywhere. Could I then
be recalled, remade, the strange

clear metal of myself come
back together in another,
fresher shape. If not,

could I just end. If not, could
I teach you how to bend,
to escape, to float—

Source: Poetry (January/February 2024)