From Pili's Wall by Philip Levine

[rambunctiousky]

VI

This is me.
As I am.

There is no child
inside me. I
am a child.

I am inside me
squeezed tight, the
bright tongue

of the thistle
at night
or the quick eyes

of a rabbit
or the one eye
of fire.

With long black hair
I'm shaking inside
me, unfolding

like a tree
turning and turning

like a hand
in water or a widow
lost on the road.