starting from the beginning

and last night because of a dream I was young again, swimming with Wendy my mother at the Y. And everything around the edges was lost, and everything at the center hurt -- because it was more there than there. Gaaaaah ! there is no sound for it in the silent page. I lean my head back to let it out to the sky : and what is it? the noise of being alive! I was there, that was me, and I am carrying me inside myself still; sometimes am I allowed in--

Downstairs the neighbor's brand new baby is crying gaaaeeh! gaeeeh! She vibrates the air in periodic waves and they come crashing up through the floorboards and around in my bedroom, colliding with the walls and my ears which can be likened to two mouths drinking them in. You are here! I hear you! Do you hear me?

Is there any other question, S., anything else that can be asked?


1 comment:

N/A said...

Interpreting the baby's cry reminds me of Stephanie Vaughn's story where she interprets the dog's bark. "My name is Duke. My name is Duke. I am your dog. My name is Duke." I reread that story recently and was reminded how good it (still) is.