Suppose it’s easy to slip
              into another’s green skin,
bury yourself in leaves

and wait for a breaking,
              a breaking open, a breaking
out. I have, before, been

tricked into believing
              I could be both an I
and the world. The great eye

of the world is both gaze
              and gloss. To be swallowed
by being seen. A dream.

To be made whole
              by being not a witness,
but witnessed.