THE SUMMER I BECAME A WOMAN

The summer I became a woman,
No ceremony of innocence, no shattering of glass.
I tossed off the cocoon shell, the wrapping paper.
Choose any metaphor you like.
The mother-cloak was gone.
More than that; the sweet release from being
Who I was not, nor ever could be.
I followed my breasts into adolescence,
Only to be enwrapped by a rapture
More confining than any mother's womb.
Rebirth is a difficult task at any time,
But especially at night.