I Feel Such a Kernel Within Myself
          For Audre Lorde

I shed layers of myself in the bathroom, my bus seat,
When I arrive home, on my huipil, the woven fabric
The colors of the rainbow, it falls in the sink
When I am washing dishes, when I walk
Between the fig tree with its rotting fruit
And the orange trees with its green spheres
That will turn sweet soon. I am afraid to wash
My hair. I am afraid to lose all my hair. Audre
Lorde wrote that the erotic is such a kernel within
Herself. And it explodes. I am afraid of exploding. What happens
When I release the vibrations of my scalp and hair and everywhere?
The doctor told me it is called ophiasis. A Greek word.
It means “snake.” The baldness near my neck
And ears that slinks itself around like a snake. I am a
Snakewoman. I am shapeshifting before your very eyes
But no one can tell, yet. Audre Lorde says we’ve been
Taught to fear the yes within ourselves. I am afraid to say yes
To the snake on my scalp, slithering back and back and back.
Handfuls of curls that clog the shower drain at my heels, feet, toes.
The snakewoman isn’t afraid. She sheds while she wears a necklace of beating hearts.

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