2001/soul

Here is my soul
living with Sarai,
hanging out as she
writes,
or weeds,
or cooks.
Smoothing the bed
sheets,
waiting patiently
to see
what she’s going
to make of herself.
Filing nails,
tapping fingers
when she veers
too far off course.
Waiting with a
hand on the door
knob, ready to take her
where she needs
to go.

4/10/01

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