I keep an image of myself
as a Stream on a shelf 
in my chest. Now and then 

I take it down and remind myself
that I was made to flow
at the worst of times,

even when I am nearly dry,
even when I’m only a trickle.
Even when I am leached full

of poison and death, I try 
to see myself as a stream:
even with the pollution

I am better as a stream
because you cannot step into
the same stream twice and

that makes it hard to maintain
my accustomed level of self-hatred
for very long.