for my mothers

 sylvia, i see you,

making rag-rugs

and braiding hair.

virginia in the garden

noting plant-shapes

and rubbing hands

over smooth stones

anne baking bread,

feet fresh in the mud

drinking stingers 

and waxing psychiatry

with sylvia after class

who reads virginia's

diaries when she feels

stuck, who read cook

books, when she'd

had enough, sylvia's

unabridged journals

a bible to me, young

and 21 studying in 

paris, anticipating 

cinema and true love

i succumbed to my

lineage, reveling in

recording foodstuffs

solo picnics on pont

neuf, i loved you so

and held you close,

and couldn't believe

you hated bobbypins

when i wore them

everyday.