Metamorphosis

I promise that my name
is not Gregor Samsa,
has never been and never it will be,
yet I sense
resentment oozing in your eyes
every time,
I click my pinchers.
or probe you with my sensitive antennae.

Once my skin had hardened
to a shiny shell, black as gold,
I was convinced
you couldn’t hurt me, I felt invincible.
but any vertebrate is helpless
lying on its back,
and my upturned belly is now
an open wound. My blood is black.

Now I am
a metaphor of sleepless self, formed
to be reformed. I’m putty in your hands.
Maybe — tomorrow
you will let me wake me up as jellyfish.

The prompt by Shay at toads made me think of Franz Kafka and Metamorphosis, and I could not help trying to use that in my poem.

September 21, 2017

26 responses to “Metamorphosis

  1. “my upturned belly is now
    an open wound. My blood is black.” … I like that.

    wake up as a jellyfish … Yes. I might let you.

  2. Beautiful metaphor. I played Gregor’s body in a play once and wrote about it in a piece also called Metamorphosis. We all long for this transformation. Good to know we aren’t alone.

  3. You’ve evoked the spirit of Kafka in your poem – and then some, Bjorn. I love the lines:
    ‘…I sense
    resentment oozing in your eyes
    every time,
    I click my pinchers.
    or probe you with my sensitive antennae’
    and
    ‘but any vertebrate is helpless
    lying on its back,
    and my upturned belly is now
    an open wound. My blood is black’.
    The final lines are killers!

  4. Now I am
    a metaphor of sleepless self, formed
    to be reformed.

    This elicited a big WOW! from me. Amazing stuff.

  5. We have leaf miners on our lemon tree. I have now idea what they will become, a moth of sorts I suppose. Of course, like our youngest granddaughter says, “Google knows.”
    On the human side, anytime after three I can be awakened.
    ..

  6. You’ve certainly opened your minds eye to this prompt and produces another fine read………………
    Now I am
    a metaphor of sleepless self, formed
    to be reformed. I’m putty in your hands.
    Maybe — tomorrow
    you will let me wake me up as jellyfish.

  7. kaykuala

    Little creatures or even humans often wish they can be something else. The grass is greener syndrome extended to cover perhaps some feelings of inadequacy

    Hank

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