


i wake and am not sure which room i am in.
but i am here,nonetheless.
next to me is the warm, supple body
of a baby who is growing.
she is twelve.
she has a mind all her own, unknown to me.
unknowable, really.
the thought that comes easily
is of sleeping with my mother,
my father, away.
always, it seemed.
me, sleeping. sleepily listening
to one sided transatlantic conversations
at three am.
the other side unknown to me.
unknowable, really.
::
today a woman appeared,visiting, on the porch
here in this house that's not mine.
i heard her shuffling,
awkwardly, slowly
around the corner.
when she rounded
and saw me,
she seemed unsurprised
to come upon a stranger to the house,
and sat down in the wicker
next to me
as though it were i
she had come to visit.
we immediately fell
into tender, familiar
conversation.
she reached out and held
my hand at intervals.
she reached up and touched
the skin of my face.
she cried when she saw the book i was reading.
she said:
it seems we have a lot in common.
she said:
oh, what a life you've had.
i can see it in your eyes.
she said:
i live in the yellow house with the yellow barn,
if you're out walking.
i said i would be.
::
no wonder i woke just now,
not knowing if this warm body next to me
belongs to my mother, my daughter.
today i saw that we are all the same woman.
this woman i met here on the porch
knew how to talk to me,
for we are all the same.
we know things.
we know that it is hard.
we know what we love.
we know even in the fog of the last years of our lives
that all of these years make up who we are.
i knew her and she knew me.
we are all the same.
unknowable, really.
::
hi from up here in the north.
xo,
tt