When she comes home to visit, we do a lot of sitting together
or watching things together
or being in the same room as we read whatever it is we are reading at the moment together.
Those pauses in between the occasional words exchanged are where all the poems in the world gather to sing her praises.
And when she speaks, I learn more in that second than I could in a year
Like if that piece of writing worked
or how art filled the walls of a museum
or what to say when someone, looking at her name tag, asks her what kind of name that is
"American." she answers.
Five generation of her ancestors dance around her joyously, and I know what to say when I get asked the same thing.
A Poem Becomes Her