SLAM!

Hidden in Plain Sight

A child, I sit hunched over a book
at the top of the stairs
in pale winter light.
Wind seeps in at the sill,
whistles, hisses slightly at my secret life,
the life of the mind.
                             My mother
steps around me with her basket
and descends.

This is my body---this, my blood,
a blue pulsing, still visible

while a separate self survives submerged
in the shallows or the deep,
or waits in ice.

Suddenly in summer
and only for an instant
it glistens bright as a fish
leaping up, turning in the sun,
some distance from the boat.

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