(A changeling is a child believed to have been secretly substituted by fairies for the parents' real child in infancy.)

My parents argue about which parts of me were gifts from them

and I wonder if the daughter

they were supposed to have

is enjoying her time in fairie land.

My mother says I have his eyes, green and near-sighted

and I search for fairie circles

to bring me somewhere

that feels more like home.

My father says I have her smile, straight and deep-lined

and I tell lies to see if my teeth

meld together to trap

them in my mouth.

My brother’s hair falls like mine, between straight and curled

and I slice my locks off

with iron scissors to reveal

if my ears are pointed underneath.

My sister is growing into a body shaped like mine

and I prod my shoulder

blades for wings

waiting to sprout.

My baby brother is falling in love with my favorite books

And I scour fairytales

written on my bones

for my true beginning.

My baby sister thinks she’s me in baby pictures

and I look in mirrors

for cracks in the lie

my reflection is showing me.

I am mistaken for my mother/father/siblings again

and I place iron on my tongue

to check if it burns my words

with the mark of other.