My Human Disguise.
The mother runs away from her daughter
And doesn’t stop until she reaches home.
She was afraid that if her child caught her
In the evening fog they both would roam,
Blind and lost, perhaps into the forest,
Or off the sand cliffs above the river.
No, getting baby home quickly was best.
The old pine door opens with a shiver.
The child runs in and hides behind the couch,
Where she finds her in a resentful crouch.
In the morning, mists run like sentences
In the yard and illustrate the windows.
The daughter stands on the front porch and knows,
What she couldn’t last night, what fog senses.
