It's Not Like It's a Secret

Her life’s motto and my life’s bane

Her breast is fit for pearls.”

Missing you,
my soul escapes my body
and wanders, glowing
like the fireflies in the marsh

Loneliness is the habit of this house: even with two box turtles in a box
on the porch I wonder what home may be.

Maybe the speaker is offering herself like a pearl, to be someone’s treasure

Poetry demands exploration. It demands excavation

Bear it without complaining.

Her life’s motto and my life’s bane.

Mom’s busy making onigiri, one of my favorite snacks, for Dad to take back with him tonight. She presses some salmon into a handful of salted rice and starts pressing the rice into a ball around the salmon. As it comes together, she turns it once, then presses again. Turn, press. Turn, press.