Metamorphosis: November, 2016


In Ovid, when one is raped,

they are turned to a bird.

When I am raped I wake

with my arms and legs,

wingless and needing

to wash for class or work.


This is not the apocalypse

we now witness.

I begin to see what others

have seen in me: an object

for use. I remember

how after I sucked

a stranger’s cock for my life,

my whole neck clutched

in the palm of his hand,

my speech a gagged plea

for mercy, how after

I got it, when I woke,

& then for many months,

all I really wanted

was to obliterate my body.

To pitch myself,

arms spread and toes

perched, from the top spire

of the Sagrada Familia.

To die, perhaps,

but to fly first.

Erin Lynn is pursuing her PhD in Poetry at the University of Connecticut, where she also teaches English. She holds an MFA in Poetry from Columbia University, and an MA in Irish Writing from Queen’s University, Belfast. Her work has been nominated for a Pushcart Prize and she was a finalist for the Alexander Posey Contest. She co-curates Poor Mouth Poetry Reading Series in the Bronx.