The about-hows
I keep thinking about how it’s December, about how it was a year ago thatwhen I found out something might be wrong with my kidneys, about how it was two years ago thatwhen my marriage ended, about how it was 23 years ago when my family moved to this country, about how it was 14 years ago when I last saw my mother in person, about how I hate being cold, about how there’s 97 days until spring, about how my Little Sis called two days ago and how I felt when she said, “I love you; bye,” about how I’m becoming an expert at understanding my capacity to love and for loving, about how I feel about my feelings, about how wonderful cuddling is, about how conversations with Jupiter damn near mirror those with the moon in clarity and in relevance, about how amazing that orgasm was last night, about how I’m beginning to care less about the rules of grammar and how I’m unsure of how I feel about my feeling OK with that, about how serious I am when I say poetry saved my life, about how “I place my ear / on the belly of this moment” is a great line in a poem I just read, about how scared I have been this year, about how alone I have felt this year, about how happy I was this year simultaneously somehow, about how I set a goal to read 40 books this year and I’ve read only 22 so far, about how I’ve helped, about how I’ve prayed, about how I sit.
