It's like the process of aging.
Just a process.
Your hair starts to grow wilder,
your skin gets smoother,
your appetites increase.
Suddenly, you sing in the shower and in the rain,
you discover a plant you've never seen before
and you munch it.
What's that tiny star on your left temple?
Maybe a bird scratched it with tender claws
to prod you into flying.
And then, that dialogue with the moon
keeps you awake,
and then, that dream of death
becomes more and more remote
-- or is it the other way around?
Nina Cassian Take My Word For It, a collection of poems, to be published next year.
The Atlantic Monthly; October 1997; Youthing; Volume 280, No. 4; page 98.