Name the structure,
It is your own skin,
Arms beautiful, obtruding
There’s this old heart,
Eating at the centre,
Shaking, with ecstasy and fear,
I don’t want to be so young,
To endure the spectacle of,
Myself constructed,
A home inside of me,
A whole village, and every inhabitant,
Guilty,
Breaking the sticks off my back,
And standing new,
Unafraid, splinters, dug into soft palms,
Holding the body.