You

You  


Sometimes in my dreams  
I touch the body of another woman—  
not my mother,  
or my wife,  
not anyone I've known  
or seen.  

She’s a woman  
of first times  
and seasons  
natural and unnatural,  

who tells me ghost stories  
filled with un-lived truths  
that arise  
not from soil and sky,  

stories seen  
in a mirror flipped—  

a woman  
who commands:  
“BRUSH MY HAIR!”