Whose room is this?
What lucky soul's bedroom has a lake
deep as my closet
and a bed canopied by a willow tree?
I like sleeping in shade.
Mother's hand on my forehead is a blessing,
no malice in my heart.
Pneumonia, pneumonia, just what I dreamed,
All the soups I've made in my life—
slow-cooking easy broths, red thick
pureed blends. Churning it all up
alone in my kitchen, tasting,
covering, uncovering, remembering
spat-out carrots pinched between Mother's fingers
and pressed back into my mou [...]
Seventy-three years ago he lay belly up
on the rented bearskin rug, stared at the penny
stuck on his Mama's nose, and screeched.
He used to hang beside the bed in my first apartment
until one boyfriend complained,
"Your father's giving me the creeps [...]
She loves especially the Cha Cha Cha,
her right foot crossing her left
in a daring twist. And sometimes
she tangos wall to wall across the room.
This makes her laugh.
She knows she isn't graceful.
She shuts her eyes to mirrors
and any shiny surface. [...]