in which my greater self
rose up before me
accusing me of my life
with her extra finger
whirling in a gyre of rage
at what my days had come to.
what,
i pleaded with her, could i do,
oh what could i have done?
and she twisted her wild hair
and sparked her wild eyes
and screamed as long as
i could hear her
This. This. This.
From The Book of Light by Lucille Clifton. Copyright © 1992 by Lucille Clifton. Reprinted with permission of Copper Canyon Press. All rights reserved.