Take a cross-section of any of my parts – skin,
tongue, toe — and study cells under the microscope –
It is IT, always my center, though it is
always changing. A center comes into view
when feted by friends, flutes, champagne:
a hot, smart feeling of being where I am,
having managed forks and multiple roads,
having gladly passed through angsting!
In the winey glow and afterglow,
nothing was scrawled on a napkin,
my new/old self could hold that wisdom.
Seepage between days (even two!) is keen.
If a 5am half-dream hadn’t tossed up
that cross-segment image, I might not have
remembered the glowy me, overlaid
by querying, each the essence,
each in passage.