The moult

At first it felt so good,
so exhilarating to be free
from the prison
of that cursed, confining shell.

I could breathe again,
sing,
even shout, expanding
my chest broad as rubber,

and I could twist
front to back, loose and lithe.

But slowly I became lost,
forgetful of who I was
and there was just that hollow
feeling that comes with twilight,
the cooler nights
and voices distant,
but nobody close.

My limbs slowed
and I sought out a rock,
or some safe refuge to salt
my soft new bones.

Rachel Westfall
July 29, 2011