I do have boundaries.
I am enclosed, but porous. Permeable
and edged with moving lashes
like some alien eye. Ectoplasm, endoplasm,
organelles and nuclei, two blind spots.
Stellated jelly packet. Vacuoles.
I drink up my surroundings, eat by
(what is it called) phagocytosis.
Most people like amoebas more
but I prefer the fuzzy slipper.
Single-celled and ciliated, classed
eukaryotic (great Greek word).
I wiggle underneath your lens, pinned
in your light, a water creature liquid and
translucent. When starved I may resort to sex.
Well-fed I will keep to myself, and fissure.
Originally published by Diphthong Lit, 2022
Wren Donovan’s poetry appears or is upcoming in Emerge Literary Journal, Anti-Heroin Chic, Harpy Hybrid Review, Green Ink Poetry, Moist Poetry, and elsewhere in print and online. Two chapbooks are forthcoming: one inspired by myth and fairy tales, the second on themes of embodiment, broken-ness, and remains/remaining. Wren also reads Tarot, practices dance meditation, and talks to cats. She lives in Tennessee and lurks on twitter @WrenDonovan. Published work at wrendonovan.weebly.com.