Mutant
My heart has now evolved a beak, but not
For melody or kisses. In a shell
This mouth has formed that you and fate forgot
To show how organs gnaw escape from hell.
My heart has engineered itself a new
Integument, but not a brilliant case
As promising as chrysalis, for you
Inspired instead a scar-like carapace.
My heart has grown appendages because
Of you; not masterful, embracing wings
As I expected, but (much worse than claws)
Antennae—tentative and trembling things.
Adapted perfectly to armored hate,
It crouches, lacking flight and voice and mate.