Without my initials maybe my edges
would be smoother – soft like my tummy
and the inside of my elbow.
I could be lighter – caterpillar to
butterfly, shedding the nine letters
which have sought to define me my whole life.
It would be a cocoon lying in tatters
– falling away as ash and dust to leave
behind a pale face and freckles.
Red hair and blue eyes, only
five foot something in height
– but I’d be light.
Softer and more like the girl
people like to hug in greeting,
rather than stand off and smile.
Perhaps, without the need
for a name – I would smile.
Photograph & poem: © Kristiana Reed 2019