I’ve never understood why people are so disgusted

by silverfish.

I like the little guys.

They way they scurry around from place to place,

they’ve always got somewhere to be,

perhaps because they don’t like where they are.

From the moment a screaming woman thrusts us into the world,

Soft, bloody heads first.

We begin to deteriorate.

For some, that occurs at a faster pace than others.

Once, before the people moved in,

before they took my brothers

and sisters

and cousins

and friends,

I saw the sun.

I grew up

and I grew strong,

trying to reach the sky.

I meant to make

I wake before you and in the darkness,

I don’t recognize you right away.

Your lashes bring their own light,

full like fields of crows,

a murder of crows. The birds nested

on the hill I’m sure I’ve told you about