Self-Portrait   There is in my mind a child who skips pebbles across the ripples of my imagination   She is barefoot and tanned smelling of summer woven in long blades of grass               when she is bored             she makes paintings             from crocus petals and autumn leaves        but sometimes on rainy days                         she holds tantrums and gives me headaches     There is a woman in my mind who sleeps under piles of old newspapers   Her skin               hangs                          from her jowls             and   She wears a rough coat drinks too much, smokes   but sometimes,         she knows how to sing children to sleep     - Gillian Massel