Through pears and flowers premonitions
came floating, more than light, more
than the sounds of bees. I felt my loudening heart.
There were moments a voice tells
which if I could keep them I will be
in a story I always know
starting with Grossmutter’s garden—gold tinged, I thought. . . .
I am totally alone (a space
deep as black sky, black water).
O my daughter, who
are these people? Why am I not someone
come ashore. What harbors?
Tell me. Whose whispers? Light buzzing?
I have remembered and forget.