Identity Tumbles

It’s true I wanted

                  to be authentic

                                   before my own name

                                                      was mine. Say the word

momentum, taste

                        the shape of

                                    turbulence, my energy

                                                                infinite, rolling

down the long

             staircase down

                                down. Tension

                                                  stacked into a motion;

I wanted to be

                    a reckoning;

                                    lurching into the dark;

                                                                     suddenly halting—

exotic. I craved

                       beautiful

                                     a loose curl pulled taut

                                                                  and me, caressed as

a hummingbird

                 one moment;

                              seized in passionate

                                                  ownership the next.

Say the words.

             I wanted to be

                          a tornado, my

                                       gradating tresses

held in

           the hands of

                              every day,

                                               and known.

*   *   *

Thank you for reading! This is part of a series of poetic emulations, where I take a poem I love and either write an answer, a continuation, or something new inspired by it.