Coming from Nobel’s land, Pulling a whole thin strand of life behind you, You came up, transfigured in an Indian dress, As if you were a goldfish surfacing!

It was left to me to come up, Trashing and breathless for air, For that pause that was required of me to etch this memory’s tattoo, was so long!

Was it my surprise or an old ache Hidden deep inside of me that was gasping? I don’t know. I don’t know how one begins To pour such beauty into a hollow frame of words.

Or cloth! You did. So this is for you to tell, And for me to listen and scan.

• for Ann 2003:05:18 Atl