The End of Girlhood

What else can I say? The book opened
like a future or a grave. I chose a wilder way
through the woods, stalked by a mosquito
whining for my heat. I chose a stranger’s mouth
because it rhymed with love, because it
finished me off like a sentence. My throat
like a hummingbird’s, mistaken for a jewel.
The kiss stuffing my mouth with smoke.
There was a river, a thralling, how I trembled
against my own hand. Of course what I remember
most are the dangers of descent— gypsum flowers
making a forest of the cave, its stones aching
open like hands to receive the gifts—candles,
photos, teacups, my torn hood. The spring
dripped its steady syllables. Arise, arise.
I was still myself after, but a new grief opened
inside me like an umbrella. Gentle shield.
Generous shadow. My knowledge made me
soft and unmerciful. All three heads of the dog
turned towards the sound of its name.