The day of her birth has passed without incident
Which is to say without visible breakdown
Except for a few minutes, late
When once more i saw the intelligence alive in her eyes
The urban wind in her hair on the rooftop
The lights of Chinatown streaked behind her in the New York night
And i cried for a moment, but other than that
I have learned to exist out of touch with the world
Walking the cold beach alone
With an ocean of memory endlessly rolling under.
I have learned not to flinch
Not inert: still.
A cracked shell. A stone.
—with three adapted lines by Louise Glück
