Each mind is a filter…
the wheat from the chaff

Each vision dissected,
to cry or to laugh

Each chance in the moment,
to live or to hide

Each reason a marker,
to vow or belie

Each leaf that has fallen,
the price that we’ve paid

Each morning recalling,
which bed is unmade

Each voice in the distance,
one name on the wind

Each memory unspoken
—to call from within

(Villanova Pennsylvania: November, 2019)

Do you sleep on your back
with your heart to the
sky, and your face to the
sun?
Last night, I wondered
as the moon peeked through my window
and the night awoke,
I wondered with my heart to the
floor, and my
face pressed to the pillow.
When I was a baby,
my mother lied to the doctor:
"Yes, she's sleeping on her back,"
but I would only sleep on my stomach.
Still, I turned out fine,
right?
Sometimes I lay out on my back,
and I can see my heart beating
in my stomach,
through the fabric of my shirt,
but I can't sleep.
Is this what you feel like?
Can you watch your chest rise
and fall?
When you cry,
do your tears make two tracks
from your eyes to your ears?
Maybe you don't sleep on your back at all
maybe you turned out fine,
like me,
sleeping with your heart to the
floor, and your
face pressed to the pillow.
Maybe you don't watch your heart beating,
or your chest rise and fall,
maybe you don't cry —
but I'd like to think you do.