Good Vibrations...

Okay, so the morning driver of the No. 21 bus just made my week... When I got up to disembark (Headphones on; Jay-Z blaring in my ears)he commented to me that he thought he was alone on the bus. I smiled and said "no, just me..." and he went on to say that since he doesn't see me every day, he's not automatically expecting me to get off at the stop. He asked me what I did for a living, and when I told him that I'm an editor, he said "and a very pretty one at that...you've got those dreamy eyes, and sumptuous lips..." "Did you just get your hair done?" he wondered. I told him that my hair was the opposite of done, that I simply had not blown it dry after the shower, and that it was simply wet. "That's sexy!" he exclaimed.

There are two ways that a man's compliments/attention can make a woman feel. Cheap, undermined, and objectified. Or, encouraged, special, and beautiful.

This morning's exchange encouraged me to just keep doing what I'm doing...I feel good about the changes I've made and am continuing to make, and I am at peace with things. It's such a cliche, but in truth, the hardest part of this metamorphosis has already happened. My mind is made up, and I think that's what Mr. Bus Driver was responding to... I mean, that man has seen me before, but he's never said anything on any other morning back when I was riding the bus every day.

It's supposed to rain this evening, but I don't care. I'm walking tonight. Gotta keep the momentum going....

Red Velvet Newsboy Cap

I own very few pieces of funky, hip, or interesting clothing (or accessories, as the case may be), but the red velvet newsboy cap is one of them. I have gotten so many favourable comments today! I've worn this hat before, and almost no one said anything, even though it was just as cute, funky, and adventurous as it is today. I've decided that the difference must be me. I'm just feeling better about being in my own skin.

On my lunch break, I went into Fells Point proper to get Gwen Stefani's solo effort, "Love Angel Music Baby"; it goes with the hat.

I'm no sharp shooter...


you are the ingram mach 11!!! with a staggering
rate of fire you can unload an entire clip of
30 bullets in just under 3 seconds! you arent
very accurate but that hardly matters since u
really cant miss if you are close enough. a
gangsters favourite. spray and pay biatch!


what kind of weapon are you?
brought to you by Quizilla

Catching up with Victoria was something I was both looking forward to and dreading. I was looking forward to it for obvious reasons—she’s one of my dearest friends. My dread was all due to that which I have come to think of as “the situation” with her other really good friend…you know his name… She and I had not debriefed about that scenario at all, and in truth, because hang time is scarce for everyone, I didn’t even know if she knew from him that he is with someone now. I didn’t want to have to be the one to tell her. As it turns out, she did know, and wasn’t sure if I knew…and thought I should know if I didn’t, but didn’t want to bring it up in an e-mail…

Eventually, we did get around to it, and I tried to be as deadpan as I could. For the first time ever (since “the situation” began) I told V that I have completely given up any expectation of a happy ending regarding him. She registered that to be about as shocking as the news that I had given up coffee. In a way, they are the same.

Once the topic had been broached, though, I was relieved. Victoria was the last person I absolutely needed to tell, and the last person I wanted to tell because I know she loves me and g both so much, and she’s been in on my side of this from day one…and she gave me the gift of her support, even her hope that someday he would choose me. I will always love that she wanted him for me, because I know she knows us both so well… It made me feel that I wasn’t totally off base. It’s moot now, but it still means everything to me that this should have been her heart on the matter.

We conversed so intensely that our waitress left us a note on the bill saying that she hoped that someday she and her close girlfriend could be just like us. We were obviously happy to see each other.

We talked a lot about weight loss strategies and the emotions connected with that…
As a happily married lady, she shared with me that sometimes she wishes that she was still single, only because of all the control that one must relinquish in order to be married. She’s finally at the place in her life, she said, that she knows that if she is ever single again she could be happy that way for the rest of her life. She wished it hadn’t taken getting married to know that, because then she wouldn’t have been so miserable for so long before she met her husband.

As for me, at the moment, I can honestly say that I am not interested in a relationship. I have so much healing to do. So much changing to do—and I really don’t want anyone interfering with all that.

All that and I forgot lunch...

Michael dropped me off at the Whole Foods store around the corner from our office building first thing this morning so that I could pick up a few groceries, including something to eat for breakfast. Due to my mother's and Jim's holiday generosity, I have a few extra bucks. This is even more fortuitous than usual because I am plum out of groceries and don't get paid until Thursday. In any case, I got some fruit, some cereal, some yogurt, tofu, green tea, grapefruits, lentils, etc., but neglected to pick up a substantial meal option for lunch. So, in all likelihood, I'm going to have trek back there at noon.

Presently, I'm eating my first cupful of Organic Mango Crisp cereal. Not too bad....

My weekend was lovely. Crystal and I went to Cafe Hon as I mentioned, and then we did my favourite thing. We shopped "The Avenue," and since my middle sister was in a spending mood, she bought me a watch and some rather fetching, post-post modern sunglasses. Now, if only we could get some sun so that I could really use them!

Yesterday, on our way down to Southern Maryland, we picked up the dog so that Crystal could take her back to Upstate NY with her. We collected Caryl and then the three of us met up with my mom and the aforementioned Jim at Vera's White Sands in Calvert County. The Decor is tiki meets kitsch. It was reminiscent of the livingroom we had when I was growing up (which was african safari meets kitsch). The food wasn't stellar, but the ambiance was pleasant, looking out over the water was charming, and my mother was a vision in a pink wraparound number.

I had two cocktails, which is a low-fat eating-regime no-no. I wouldn't say I went whole hog by any means, but I enjoyed a few luxuries that may make this week's pound loss slightly less than usual. That coupled with the fact that I've not walked in about 4 days... Well, holiday is over. Back to the routine! I'm looking forward to it.

The Australian Iron Ore ring I received from Catherine yesterday inspired me to polish my nails. When I arrived back home from my daytime jaunts with Sarah, this little happy package was resting against my door (it pays to be friendly with the mailman; he climbed three flights of stairs since my parcel wouldn't fit in my box to ensure that I received it.). In addition to the ring and a cd of photos from around Thanksgiving time, were some homemade magnets from C's roommate, and chocolate Easter Bilby from down under.

After dinner, I camped out of my couch and tried half-heartedly to do some reading for next week's Contemporary American Writers class, but my heart was with my sister, making the long trek from Upstate New York. We talked for 3/4 of the last leg of her trip. As she neared Baltimore, it was especially important that I help her navigate. She got in at about 2:30 a.m. We finally got into bed at 4:30!

Now we're off to Cafe Hon!

Good Friday

I am at Sarah's house; we both have the day off. I have spent nearly every Good Friday with Sarah for the last eight years--it is very important to us to ponder Christ's sacrifice together on this day. We are just going to kick about today doing errands, pal-ing around... and then tonight, sometime between midnight and 1 a.m, my sister Crystal will come calling on me. We'll spend tomorrow together and then go to St. Mary's City to visit our better third, Caryl, on Sunday. It's going to be a lovely Easter weekend, afterall.

I only went to work two out of the five days this week. It's got me to thinking. I'd like a job where I only needed to report twice a week. That's about right. I should be so fortunate.

I'm coming out of my cold or whatever it was, but I still feel a bit out of it. And emotionally, it's still more difficult than not, but I am making it through.

"If the relationship between the manipulated variable and the responding variable is a direct proportion, what will a line graph of the relationship look like?" Ans: A straight line.

Without knowing why, my heart would flutter in math class (Geometry, I suppose, was the specific arm of mathematics being studied) when the teacher would say:

"The shortest distance between two points is a straight line."

There seemed to be so much hope in that axiom, that law, whatever it is... it seemed to say, between any two entities, there is a connection, perhaps not seen, but present. You can get there from here. And what is more, the path between ideas, people, theories, truths, is not convoluted or coy. It is a straight line.

In looking over a science lesson today I came across the quote that functions as the title of this post. It says to me, "for every action, there is an equal and opposite reaction." It says "let the punishment fit the crime," it says "yin-yang," it says "find the balance." Things become "out of whack," when one entity swings too far forward or back. Respond to an appropriate degree. Be angry at the right time, with the right person, for the right reason, Aristotle said. It even calls to mind the truism that real power is self-restraint.

I have been pondering the invisible lines that connect us to those with whom we are in relationships. No more than papery wisps those lines are. Nothing that you think would hold, but they do. even when there seems to be no path back, there is still a line.

As Catherine pointed out, a light snow is preferrable to a cold rain. I was almost certain by yesterday evening that I would also be calling in sick again today, but when my alarm went off at 6 a.m. this morning, and I heard the fat spitty splats of rain hitting my window pane, there was no question. I dialed my boss's number with only the grey light from the slats of my blinds and the backlit key pad of my cell phone to guide me.

I am beginning to feel better, but I am taking today as insurance. I'm not totally out of the woods yet, and something about my job is making me not want to be there at the moment. It seems antithetical to actual progress. Even though we are in the middle of a big project, my own workload is under control. Being sick has been a blessing. Enforced vacation from the tedium of a job in which my heart currently holds no stake.

E-mailed my prof a bit ago to let him know that I would be bowing out of our class meeting tonight. It would seem incongruous to skip work two days in a row, my Tuesday night class, but go to his. Besides, as he pointed out, tonight we are discussing a book we read in his 20th Century World Lit. class last semester. Well-covered ground. So, I'll spend my day reading the assignment for next week.

There is one shred of unfinished business between g and myself. I am still in the process of paying him for the last painting I bought from him. A week ago I sent him a check and he wrote yesterday to acknowledge it. After reading his newsy communique, I deleted the missive. To answer such an e-mail would be counterintuitive to the agreement I have with myself about such things. At the present time it seems best to leave things undisturbed. If I ever see him again (and right now I cannot imagine that I would allow that, in as much as it is up to me), I want it to be when my metamorphosis is complete.

Home Sick

I felt slightly "off" last week. Yesterday, My cold stepped up its intensity. Today, I am leveled by it. I had been marveling that though I was not at 100% for the last few days, that I didn't seem to be suffering from that thin film of malaise that clouds the vision when one is ill. I had the symptoms: a cough, some congestion, mildly scratchy throat, but I felt fine.

Now it's as though the world has a yellow-tinted plastic cover on top of it.

I can see that what I'll be up to all day is lying on my love seat, reading, sleeping, and watching bad tv intermittently. I'm so not going to class tonight. I'll be impressed if I manage to drag myself into work tomorrow.

Update

17 pounds.

Casablanca

Hey,

In case you ever stumble upon this blog, or have indeed, already stumbled... I wanted you to know that I watched Casablanca again, for the second time in my life, last night. At twenty I hated it. I once told you that it was a terrible film; you vehemently, but good-naturedly disagreed. At thirty-one I understand. You were right. I know why he let her go now. Sometimes you love someone so much you would rather never see him again if it means he'll have half a chance....

Split ends...

"An Inverse Proportion is a relationship in which one variable increases as the other variable decreases proportionately. In this type of relationship, the product of two variables will remain constant."

My meeting with my Instructor at TOW (The One World) on Wednesday was brief. It took a total of 13.5 minutes (not counting the time it took me to walk there, walk back home, or to take off my coat and sit down, which would bring the total time to a whopping 15 minutes). The conversation accomplished its purpose, which was for him to articulate to me his concerns about his lack of confidence in advising a poetry student when he's a fiction guy, for us to lay out a plan, and to synch up, vision-wise, in terms of expectations. In short, he's going to do it.

I gave him a sheaf of relatively recent work that I believe to be representative of my writing style. Oddly enough, I don't feel too vulnerable. This program has toughened me up. He may write me at some point and say "hey, I don't think I can advise you; I don't really care for what you're doing here." Or he may not. He may like it and not say a word; he may not like it and not comment. Another construct [that of caring] bites the dust. Who knew it could be so much fun to upset one's own apple cart?

My Life As a Situation Comedy

Most sit-coms have two or three major sets or locales at which the bulk of their action/plot advancement occurs. If my life were such a show, the One World Cafe would definitely be one of my sets, in addition to my office, my apartment, and Sarah's house. Occasionally you would see me trekking out to the bookstore in Sarah's neck of the woods (and this would be a hint that my character is about to find out information that will not make her happy--see post about the function of Shakespearian Clowns and Fools from late February if you don't know what I'm talking about).

There isn't much more to say about it than that, I guess, but I think I would title my show....wait, wait, I've got it. "The Baltimore Chronicles." I guess the blog is the sit-com.

I had a terrific time with my sister. She is dealing with her own version of a broken heart, so it was a timely visit for us both--lots of talking, laughing, lunching at the One World, burning cds, watching movies, playing with make up. Michael and I dropped her off at Penn Station this morning on our way to the office.
I started to miss her immediately, and I experienced that ache of sadness I feel whenever we first part...and I have rolled it in with the general ache of others I miss...

Green Tea

The next gauntlet? No coffee at all. This is day 4. It's not that I'll never have it again, but I have decided to enjoy it only occasionally. Within the last three days, three people have touted the virtues of green tea. Naturally, since I haven't been living under a rock, I know it has excellent health benefits in addition to being delicious, but I've always been a "coffee person," and I hardly felt the need to stray in order to satisfy my need for a hot beverage.

I see now that coffee had given me a kind of tunnel vision. Things taste different now in its absence. That is to say, I feel that I can taste things again. I'd no idea that my sensitivity to certain flavours might be dulled due to my compulsive consumption.

In about an hour and ten minutes I'm going to the One World Cafe to meet my instructor to talk about his being my thesis advisor. As the time draws nearer I find that I'm not sure what there is to talk about. Do you want to be my advisor? Yes? Good, shall I e-mail you some of my poems? Okay? Maybe he'll have some questions for me. I'm sure the time will pass quickly... but it's suddenly dawning on me that e-mail banter and class discussion is a bit different than sitting right across the table from this person having a one-on-one.

It's all part of obliterating constructs. Everything I hold dear, in one form or another, is being split apart--decimated at its most base level. It's time for me to be able to hold court with another living person without the trappings of my humour or my weight or coffee to protect me.
I'm typing this as my sister naps. Gosh, but seeing her just woke up my spirit. Once we got back to my city, we immediately listened to a bunch of music and talked about all the new discs I've recently acquired. Like yesterday, I bought Jay-Z's "Black Album." If you know me, you know this is something of an anomaly, the recent Kanye West purchase aside. But I've got to tell you. I'm just in a rap place right now. The beat is right for my walks... and I'm opening up myself to the true poetry of the lyrics. My Favourite track on Le Album Noir? "Justify my thug," which samples Madonna's "Justify my love." What can I say? It's off the chain.

I feel so rundown this morning. Like I might have a touch of something. I hope not; I have a very busy week planned. Tomorrow morning I am going to meet my sister in dc and am bringing her back to Baltimore with me. Tomorrow night I have a "coffee" meeting with my instructor; Thursday I am going to the James Joyce Irish Pub for St. Patrick's Day with a college chum; Saturday I have a salon appointment; Sunday I'm getting together with Victoria...and at some point in the midst of all this, I need to go grocery shopping and do laundry.

Essentially, I have no time to be ill. I think I'll just rip into this grapefruit that's sitting on my desk, and hope that it gives my immune system a boost. I love the ritual of peeling fruit. Especially citrus fruits. I love the sensual qualities of the pith and the skin, the way the membranes shroud the essence of the thing... you have to work to get there, but it's so rewarding when you do.

The Show Must Go On...Act II

Because this week is my sister's spring break (it's mine too, but since I'm a working adult, it hardly matters), I am going to take off at least one day this week. Maybe Tuesday or Wednesday, but first I need to consult with that elusive girl and pin her down. She's such a social butterfly.

The last couple of nights I have tossed and turned. My dreams have been fraught with leftover emotion for the man I must now forget to love. Even though I am taking on the challenge of moving on with things, I am still very much in a place of grieving the loss of the hope I had. I am proactively processing the implications of the way things are. I don't want to dwell. God knows dwelling is what set the stage for this 6-year internal war. I put up a good fight of faith. Whatever is true and whatever is false, I know I played out the hand.

Among the pockets of joy during this time of sadness (though it is slowly waning) are a few more cds I've acquired. I'm so late on this, but I bought Kanye West's "College Dropout" album. What a great sense of humour! It features a track called "Workout Plan," and there are such classic lines as: "All those mocha lattes, you gotta do Pilates...eat your salad, no dessert, get that man you deserve."

I'm conceptualizing a walking mix, and this number has got to go on it!

I don't own a scale, so I had no idea what my quantified progress was (or even if there was any) until yesterday. I've been feeling different; my pants have been looser, but I thought maybe some of that was psychological--because I so badly want to change.

After arriving at Sarah's place last night (I haven't seen her in about 2 weeks)she encouraged me to get on her scale, because she felt that she could see a difference. I was trepidatious...I didn't want to be discouraged if I hadn't really lost anything yet. I needn't have worried.

I'm 10 pounds lighter.

And I can sense a change in my metabolism. This week I've focused on incorporating fruits and vegetables into my eating regimen, while upping the ante on my water intake. I feel myself being even less physiologically dependent on caffeine. I am exercising portion control, trying to snack on things like grapes and grapefruit, and I am walking and walking and walking. This morning, quite spontaneously, during my powerwalk I broke out into a run. My body just wanted to go faster. It dawned on me that I was running a few seconds into the process.

I don't think I'm going to run as a matter of course, because aerobic walking is said to be much better, and one is less likely to injure one's knees that way...but I think it was something of a metaphor. I wanted to go farther, faster. God, what will it be like when I don't have anything checking me, when I can just keep going...

I'm Never Ever Gonna Quit, 'Cause Quittin' Just Ain't My Stick....

Barry White's Greatest Hits, black coffee, a meeting set up with an instructor to discuss thesis options at the One World next week... I've gotten my equilibrium back, people.

Free Make Up

For a series of complicated (and boring) reasons, I am now the owner of quite a bit of Mary Kay make up (at absolutely no cost to me), and last night I had the most fun trying on different lipsticks, glosses, liners, etc. I have always believed that whatever is going on in a woman's life, if she applies just a little lipstick, it can change everything.

On other fronts, things are also looking up. I've been in contact with my instructor about serving as my thesis advisor and that door is one we're going to explore walking through (that would be the door of thesis advisement)at some point over the next week or so.

Oh, and... black coffee is growing on me. If I wrote a poem or two, my mood might go off the richter. Let's not tempt fate...

I would walk 500 miles and I would walk 500 more...

Well, the journey of a 1,000 miles begins with a single step. Yesterday after work I walked a mile on the track across the street from my house.

Obliterating Constructs

This morning I took my coffee black. Though I hardly ever tested myself on this point where java is concerned, I have always believed that the more superior any food, the less likely one is to need condiments to go with said food. Cream and Sugar are obviously coffee's condiments, and I use them in abundance. However, there have been a scant few times when the quality of a brew was so excellent, that I only used the cream, and did not miss the sweetener. Obviously, I have tasted black coffee before, and once or twice it wasn't so bad, but I didn't even think to commit myself to the discipline of drinking it that way all the time.

I read last night that one cup of black coffee in the morning acts as an apetite suppressant, and helps to kick start the metabolism (along with a good breakfast, of course). I am already down to one cup, but I decided to throw down another gauntlet for myself.

Brewing the Gevalia Vanilla Nut blend this morning, I began to psyche myself up. "It's time to become a purist--to really love coffee, and save myself needless calories," I said to myself. I told myself that when I get used to it, I won't believe that I ever put anything in my coffee, masking its true essence.

I drank most of the cup. I gave up once it became tepid, but I would have done that even with the accoutrements present. The experience felt more pure. Here's the thing:

I am the constant in my relationship with everything and everyone. I am responsible to teach people and food how to treat me. I could learn to be different, if I would but yield to the long process of change.

Someday I'll be able to say to myself: "...things aren't the way they were before; you wouldn't even recognize me anymore; not that you knew me back then..."

Love After Love
by Derek Walcott

The time will come
When with elation,
You will greet yourself arriving
At your own door, in your own mirror
And each will smile at the other's welcome,

And say, sit here. Eat.
You will love again the stranger who was your self.
Give wine. Give bread. Give back your heart
To itself, to the stranger who has loved you

All your life, whom you ignored
For another, who knows you by heart.
Take down the love letters from the bookshelf,

The photographs, the desperate notes,
Peel your own image from the mirror.
Sit. Feast on your life.

One of the inherent consequences of reading a work as closely as I am reading Tolstoy's Anna Karenina is that the book will work its way into the threads of your heart--and by heart I mean paradigm, concept of the world, etc. The same goes for any artistic venture that one ponders to such a careful extent. I am devoting as much emotional engery to the Eric Roberson cd I recently purchased. As a result, it has occurred to me that there is a song on this neo-soul collection of songs that so perfectly mirrors the feelings that Anna K's lover, Vronsky, has for her. This has inspired me to make a thematic mix--The Anna Karenina "Soundtrack."

I believe that music, like mathematics, is cumulative and universal. I have enjoyed its charms across all genres and categorizations (and those categories are often blurred now). Essentially, there is something in everything that harkens back to something else. A song is a story, the manifesto of a human life. That's why I can find an R&B ballad that features the line "Back in the day, before there was love, before there was us..." and see it as it encapsulates the whole of a literary point about a woman and a man in russia, hundreds of years prior.

Am taking a break from Roberson at the moment, though, and have put in Sting. He says the following:

What is the force that binds the stars?
I wore this mask to hide my scars
What is the power that pulls the tide?
Never could find a place to hide

What moves the earth around the sun?
What could I do but run and run and run?
Afraid to love, afraid to fail
A mast without a sail

and...

I may be numberless, I may be innocent
I may know many things, I may be ignorant
Or I could ride with kings and conquer many lands
Or win this world at cards and let it slip my hands
I could be cannon food, destroyed a thousand times
Reborn as fortune's child to judge another's crimes
Or wear this pilgrim's cloak, or be a common thief
I've kept this single faith, I have but one belief

I still love you
I still want you
A thousand times these mysteries unfold themselves
Like galaxies in my head
On and on the mysteries unwind themselves
Eternities still unsaid
'Til you love me

I believe that in the landscape of "Karenina," these would be Levin's words for Kitty Scherbatsky.

Cafe Krupnik

Because of a Gevalia promotion I received a new free coffee maker upon enrolling in their Coffee of the Month Club. I brought in my old machine to the office and set up shop in my fairly sizable cube. Armed with a coffee grinder and a bag of Starbuck's Christmas 2004 Blend (whole bean), I can now produce decent tasting brew every morning for myself and a few select colleagues. My one freaking cup a day needs to count now. It's funny how denying yourself clarifies everything.

I had a bonafide coffee break with L and Michael this morning. We sat in my "office" shooting the crap about real estate and get rich quick schemes--oh, and the best mafia movies to watch.

I'm taking myself out on Friday night. I'm going to a performance of the play "Charley's Aunt" on campus. on Saturday I'm going to the birthday party of the first friend I made during Freshman orientation week at college. She turned 32 on Tuesday. She was 18 when I met her.

Bright Spots

Well I took Greg's suggestion and tried to find that hard to find cd at the new and used cd store in Fells Point, which is close to where I work. I found it yesterday afternoon. The import version was going for 34 dollars. I bought it because I figured that by the time I find the US release it could be several more weeks, if not months. Amazon.com has this thing on back order, and Greg's bookstore would have had to back order it as well. Anyway, it seemed like fate that I buy it. They had only one copy at the store. If it was not for me, then for whom? For the entire last week the bell has been tolling for me, so I recognize it's chime. "Kate, buy that cd," it seemed to say.

My poetics class in which I was issued a death blow last week (see "I think Poetry is breaking up with me" post)was not so bad last night. I got a few laughs and had a few laughs. I turned in yet another poem--the third this semester, about the duplicitous nature of snow.

Currently, taking advantage of the fact that I have not had much of an appetite lately, I am revamping the way that I eat. It's drastic. One cup of coffee a day. That's just the tip of the ice berg.

Before I share a couple more poems that are especially meaningful to me, I just want to say that all of my friends are doing and saying just what I need them to do and say at this time. All of you are being so amazing, leaving supportive comments on the posts, calling, praying for me, taking me out to lunch, telling me that you wish you could be here with me...

Christ asks us to bear each other's burdens, to rejoice with those who rejoice and to mourn with those who mourn. Thank you for entering into this time of difficulty with me.

Among the comforts of my life, I still find poetry, waiting, and in poetry is one of the evident graces of God.

From Rilke:

Solemn Hour

Whoever weeps now anywhere out in the world,
weeps without cause in the world,
weeps for me.

Whoever laughs now anywhere out in the world,
laughs without cause in the world,
laughs at me.

Whoever walks now anywhere out in the world,
walks without cause in the world,
walks toward me.

Whoever dies now anywhere out in the world,
dies without cause in the world:
looks at me.

From Jane Kenyon:

Briefly It Enters, and Briefly Speaks

I am the blossom pressed in a book,
found again after two hundred years....

I am the maker, the lover, and the keeper....

When the young girl who starves
sits down to a table
she will sit beside me....

I am the food on a prisoner's plate....

I am water rushing to the wellhead,
filling the pitcher until it spills....

I am the patient gardener
of the dry and weedy garden....

I am the stone step,
the latch, and the working hinge....

I am the heart contracted by joy...
the longest hair, white
before the rest....

I am there in the basket of fruit
presented to the widow....

I am the musk rose opening
unattended, the fern on the boggy summit....

I am the one whose love
overcomes you, already with you
when you think to call my name....