City of Murals

A crow perches inside me.

Actually, it is a whale. It is hard to tell
by touch alone. Nothing I own ever looks
me properly in the eye. Sometimes

a loud caw at dusk feels
like the largest mammal on Earth.

A deep breath out the blowhole

into my stomach. One second it swims
and the next it is a small extension
of a tree. This is a kind of beginning—

a finger puppet show. The light
dancing around my hands.

Me dancing alone on a stem.

A persimmon blooms.
A boy learns a song and plants it
in an orchard. Inside of me

the large creatures change their shapes
to fit. A blackbird. An organ.

Animals with no names. I send them off
into the world daily. Little sadness
takes flight. Love is a brave child.

These things take the shape
of their containers.

I don’t have to do anything
     to hold them.


Silhouettes, by Kien Lam