When I close my eyes 2008 casts itself inside me.
We’re in the kitchen,
And so is Etta James,
The Camomile brewing
While Mama teaches me how to go on relevé.

She sings by making up the words,
I sing by laughing
Our hips swaying
Arms drifting way up high like the kites we’d never flown.

She says,
God only knows,
When I asked her how she learned to dance.
And then the kettle sings,
As she grabs my hands to swing,
And I think to myself
I’m happy.