Let it be too-early light, your first
memory, the dog lapping from the water bowl.
I eat and make my way
across the gravel path, a handful of stones.
Let it be among these birds
and other birds. She said, The hardest thing
I have done, and changed her mind
more than once. There is no word
for the way your mother touched you,
you must know–and four
brothers somewhere. The hardest thing,
and left. You must know that there
were tears, nothing we won’t do—
of that you can be sure. The window looks
upon a field, three horses grazing in the rain.
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