You stand in the mirror and the light shines
From in front of you;
You've become more of a silhouette
Than a person.
You run your fingers through your hair
As you press strands between
Hot metal
And heart between
Teeth.

Your grandmother called you
Mara Bird
And I think the name is fitting:
Curls dance across your shoulders
And down your back
Like birds flitting across water's surface;
The hum that finds its way
From the atrium of your mouth
And into the space around us
Resembles those of songbirds
Whose tunes are audible
Only to those who are really listening.
(And I want to tell you that
I am really listening).