My body has gone.
It doesn’t need me anymore.
It reminds me of myself,
saying prayers,
sharing old stories.
We are deep in something, with this sharing.
The wave approaches,
turns, swells.
It might cleanse the choices
we are trying to make right.
I’m reconceiving everything I knew:
the history of upper New York State,
arsenal town, mill, factory, dock.
It reminds me of my body, gone but real.
We are deep in something.
We all have it so hard right now.
Let me welcome you
to the republic of smiles.
Let me be your founding mother
with your fever on my shoulder:
—What do you feel like eating, dear?
—Nothing really, I just ate.
I’m not offended.
It’s a relief to me too.
How do you reconceive a history?
Can kindness buy peace?
Does the moon still talk to me?
Only every night.
