Becoming
Chimera

Chel Campbell

Trimester I

Two pink lines:
Invasion.
Inhabitation.
Locus slides
Backwards, displaced
By lizardy embryo’s
Faint beacon.

Trimester II

Embodiment hides
In dull, pulsing aches.
Form out-of-joint,
Torqued pelvis,
Sore spine,
This body both mine
And not mine.
From inside, a wing-flutter,
A hoof-kick.
A pale face.

Trimester III

This happens every time:
Women with venom
Tongues shriek fire.
On their knees,
Dangerous figures
Full and buzzing,
Flesh breaks
for flesh.
I will open
like this, too.