Aster Lit: Metamorphosis
Issue 3—Fall 2021
cell turnover
Corrie Ferguson, United States
an ache sprouted onto my calves just yesterday
accompanying the many smaller ones
on my neck, shoulders, lower back even.
and i hope they just act as an aide to my
rebirth
my right to new cells every 7 years
shedding my old home like dog hair
sometimes i find traces of old feelings
in an old poem i wrote for class
and think about how that used to be the end
of the world, of my life, of my heart.
i used to feel as if i had used all my words
and touch for good.
but i still find myself hugging new bodies every few years
locking pinkies and picking food off of the edges of people’s mouths,
saying, “you got a little something” while pointing to my teeth
y’know, like living?
i think about how in the fourth grade
my favorites colors felt like the pinnacle of identity
like, if i knew my favorite colors, i knew who i was as a vessel.
not the words i chose,
not the things i talked about when no one was listening,
not the words in journals i kept like secrets,
not the love i gave out like halloween candy i didn’t want.
and how i wish it was that easy to know yourself just by your favorite hue.
i just hope
in these next 4 years
i am reborn with the ability to
keep some love for me
and store it somewhere where i
can always remember where i put it.
because i’ve spent way too long
looking at myself and seeing nothing
but a body that could’ve.
a body that wanted to.
and a body that tried.
Corrie Ferguson is a poet based in Dallas, Texas. She published her first collection of poetry with FinPress publications in September of 2020 called, “I Wonder If...” available on lulu.com. She is also a staff writer for a one-of-a-kind media company called Cripple Media, made by and for disabled youth. Her work has been featured in various newsletters, anthologies and magazines. She is currently a senior at McKinney High School, and you can usually find her out somewhere with her best friends or girlfriend, with her family, or in her bed writing what may or may not be poems the world will end up reading.