By Heather Ann Pulido
I am a flower.
I am the fruit that becomes of the flower.
I am a dancer.
I am the mother that watches the dancer.
I am a panther.
I am the forest crawling with panthers.
I am a runner.
I am the sweat-soaked shirt on the runner.
I am a computer.
I am the ENIAC, ancestor of computers.
I am a gardener.
I am the grass beneath the feet of the gardener.
I am a cover.
I am of books, songs, and cars, the cover.
I am a Golden Retriever.
I am that which the Golden Retriever retrieves.
I am anarchy; I am thieves.
I am tree; I am leaves.
I am poetry; I am peeves.
I am grocery; I am sieves.
I am. I slam. I damn.
I jam. I scram. I am.
Until you love me
for who I am,
I will be anything but
what you say I am.
Heather Ann Pulido is an indigenous writer from Baguio City, Philippines. She writes to grow both roots and wings. A longtime student journalist and content writer, she considers herself a novice in poetry. This year, she aims to feature more of her experiences as a bisexual woman in her work. Her poems are in Moss Puppy Magazine, Hot Pot Magazine, and underscore_magazine. When she’s supposed to be writing, she’s on Twitter @heather_tries
