Yes, you are now here. I can see you / because you are mine. My soaring / & my failures. You are no longer / 
a stranger, uninvited & welcome

with blood pouring from her nose & mouth, / with her wedding dress, with bare feet, / with marquees announcing the end / of a woman, / with the man who could not tell the truth, / with sand dollars on a sill, with hip-stalk / 
& lipstick, with house party & / repast, with a bank of snow, / with sorrow & cinnamon,

My mother gave me / her bluebird of happiness. Carrying the glass / inside my skin to school, I was young. / Show us what you have, the world said.

sweet leaks out the droning walls / call it a hard-knocks monastery / call it Ghandi split and shackled / call it honey  in a bitter built hive