Thrusting against the wall erect from my youthful womb
I alone must go from the tree that shelters the grave
of her umbilicus, and the place of Ma Puddy’s tomb;
the woman whose foretelling is come to pass in me.

I went down, and up the fleeting crags
garnering memoirs, yarns stilled
in passing notions; that’s what was wished-for
but I misplaced details while going downhill


I took her beautiful eyes that laugh when crying my tears,
the ones I no longer spill on satin and fine silk;
they went when bottles brought fists to my face
She was to flee, and by no means continue my days

For her it is to reach and grasp opulence,
and look at nuisance fleeting, the sudden that came
with rapture evoking youthful musing
she is called to make this climb.

She came and spread
like honeysuckle, arresting the sun
and calling birds to feast. She took my shell,
forfeiting me, and lives in novelty and wonder

I found my youth in sparkling eyes
that do thoughtful things (things done boldly).
I cuddle me in the life I filched
and lived her life a thousand times with my little girl.