METAMORPHOSIS

This, as you can see
is a photograph of me.
I won’t be fished out
from the water
with my eyes turned
into mythic pearls
although, what I miss most
are my cascading curls.
The moons in my eyes actually
are the things most alive, now;
the silver crescents quicker
than the burnished gold of my face
that my former rival exclaims
has a Cleopatran grace!

Yes, once not very long ago
I aspired to be a beauty queen
before the unending chemo
turned me to a mannequin.
Today I am a professional
storyteller mining an inner store
not always employing the confessional
‘cause I know more than before:

Surviving too is an Art.