She takes a brush to her hair
To evict the metaphoric rats that have taken up residence
Iin the massive tangles beneath the slope of her skull.
She methodically sheds her fabric skins -
Articles that had kept her together during her Metamorphosis in the Chrysalis
When the boundaries of her life had melted and her essence had become a glorious goo.
Now they are heavy with stagnant qi and fragrant in politically incorrect ways.
She folds them up with gratitude and silently surrenders them to the Holy Laundry Hamper.
She enters her bamboo grotto,
Washing away any lingering fears and doubts beneath her faux waterfall.
She tiptoes from bath to boudoir, steaming, shell-less, and soft.
She emerges from her sanctuary, fresh new fabric skin covering her form,
Imbued subtly with that seductively nurturing fragrance, Vanilla Body Lotion!
One last drying and brushing of her hair to shed any final vestiges of snarled nests.
As she steps out the back door,
She glances at her reflection and smiles:
The human disguise still fits.