If I could write a poem it
would be about the tattered fragments of myself
I so desperately hold together,
fearing the nakedness of death or madness.
I feel through me a pole of strength,
the kind firemen slide down,
fastened to the earth and then
attenuated toward an unknown sky.
I don't know how to fly.
Afraid of heights and 70 stories high.
One step at a time in this new childhood
so much to remember,
one cup of cottage cheese,
one walk outside where cats and trees and sky
are huge, blinding, sudden,