For Saniya
Wren on April 9th, 2009
You are the moment
I reached the gape of the
Grand Canyon. A pile of my
friends tickling and chasing on
summer break, 1975. You’re
the sound of the waterfall in
that state park where even
the birds stop to listen to the
frozen, flowing moment.
When you tell me about
your day and your eyes
gape and grin and I realize I’m
doing that mirror
game from acting class,
I serve our stirfry and I picture that
10 years forward I’ll smell this
steam and flash of you. Will I turn
and tell you about it?
—-Wren Tuatha
