If I Told You

If I told you I am the scattered one
they are trying to drive crazy,
if I told you I am under water in a corner
of the garden (lung), in a drawer
in the kitchen beside the helpless
knives (spleen), on the face
of the cursed clock in the long hall
to the library (hand), on the curled
cloud over slate roofs (eye),
in the fireplace by the ash grate (heart),
in the armoire with ivory inlay
animals (stomach), the excoriating
pain when my organs are pulled apart,
when my life is pulled asunder,
and who I am is undone,
and the souls of the others plunge into me
like kingfishers into a river, their chatter,
the wasted echo of my own fear, fissured,
leaking, ravaged