I thought that life was a party with music and dancing, and if I learned to dance well enough,
I would never have to stop.
But it’s hard to find the dance floor and someone who can lead you well enough so that
You don’t have to learn the steps all by yourself.

Now when the man, either of the two,
Infrequently enters and says “Hi, Mom,”
I stretch to kiss the spot I own,
just under and before the right ear.

A small body, hot head on my shoulder,
relaxes as I sing softly to the spot. Later,
carefully lowering the sagging weight
to the bed, I kiss the spot goodnight.

The man’s defensive tic, quickly
checked, makes me weep but also smile.

From your hospital bed, you ask how I knew.
How did I know, my sister?
The umbilical cord, the telephone wire, quivers in my brain.
And some day, whoever is left will be pulling back on the
Other’s toes as God tries to slide the drawer shut.