Metamorphosis

I have turned into a weasel,
with a weasel’s green peeled heart,
a black whorled nose like a thumbprint.

My underbelly’s long and sleek
and I’ve great strength. I love
to stretch and lick my furry length.

You left me in the woods all winter;
I wept cold snot-nosed tears. But strange
how quickly winter disappears.

Eyes nosing into everything,
with paddy paws I lounge among the leaves.
I have forgotten how a human grieves.