by Lupita Eyde-Tucker

I don’t need anything
from your trip across town
though I always wrack my brain
for that elusive thing
that might complete the chore,
the day, perhaps my life.

I don’t need anything
from the store, nothing
that can be bought or sold
definitely not one more thing
to add to the pile of things
filling up my closets now.

I don’t need anything, really,
except a moment of your time
to look at this picture of a duck.
It’s not a great picture,
But that’s not the point,
you see, I am the duck.

Indulge me a moment longer.
to look at the duck a different way.
See something new?
It’s also a picture of a rabbit.
I am the rabbit. Yes, I can also be a rabbit.

I don’t need anything. Nothing
bought or sold, but thanks
for taking time to look at my picture,
which is really what I want most.
But please—don’t get stuck on the rabbit.
I am still, and will also always be, the duck.

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Lupita Eyde-Tucker writes and translates poetry in English and Spanish. She's the winner of the 2019 Betty Gabehart Prize for Poetry, and her poems appear in Nashville Review, Asymptote, Columbia Journal, Raleigh Review, Women's Voices for Change, Yemassee, and Chautauqua. She's currently translating two collections of poetry by Venezuelan poet Oriette D'Angelo. Lupita and her husband live and homeschool their children in Florida. She is currently pursuing an MFA in Poetry at the University of Florida. Read more of her poems at: www.NotEnoughPoetry.com