Different, after losing my virginity.
Better, after the medicine I took.
Mosquitoes on my skin, before they’ve bitten me.
Profoundly changed, after I read that book.
The call of the wild. The glow of pregnancy.
Guilty, after sleeping with someone’s wife.
High as a kite, high even as a tree.
The peace that passeth understanding. Safe.
God’s presence in the world, and that of the boy
who thought I was his mother at the mall.
How long had he walked beside me without my noticing?
How long had I inadvertently hidden my face?
Emily Lloyd is a freelancer by day, librarian at Delaware Tech College by night. Her work has appeared at versedaily.org and mcsweeneys.net, and in various print journals, including Phoebe and The Cream City Review. Her chapbook, The Most Daring of Transplants (Argonne House), was the 2004 winner of the Dogfish Head Poetry Prize. She can be found on the web at both geocities.com/emilylloyd.geo and poesygalore.blogspot.com