Not a Chameleon
Not a chameleon,
but a gecko. Insides visible,
just a touch opaque.
The gecko gets moved
around in your suitcase
belonging somewhere,
elsewhere, not here.
O, gecko in exile. You
with your translucent
identity. It’s not your fault
customs refuses to give
you clearance to go home.
This poem was originally published in Artist Profile, Issue 62
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