Camille T. Dungy
There I Am
I barnacled myself to the jetty.
When the tide rose I arched
into the ocean, black back parting water.
I was a cloud and rained, was liquid eyes
and now I am flashes of gold in the soil of a new land.
In the darkness my hair hangs from roofs among bats.
In the light it hangs from live oak, Spanish moss.
Waving jonquils are my arms and fingers.
High peaked mountains are my thighs,
my knees, my feet, my many toes.
What you call a mudslide I call desire.
Just after a storm, when my spirits rise,
I slip over to the highway.
My desire bears the tread of every passing vehicle.
I am carried away by everyone I see.
Why are you looking for me?