I have been in the middle
for a very long time —
of being a wife, mother,
grandmother, sister, aunt, cousin, niece,
though my niece-ness soon
enough will come to an end —
Mary in her upper nineties.
I’m in the middle of
cooking chicken ratatouille,
weeding the yard after being away for nearly two weeks,
reading a book by Lyn Hejinian.
It’s not the middle of the year or the month.
Soon it will be noon.
On the first of the month Mike usually cuts my hair.
In the middle of next month
we will have lived in Argentina for a year & a quarter.
During that middle we’ve traveled to Paraguay, Uruguay, Chile, & Dominica.
The timer going off means the chicken is half cooked.
Middle as everything
since babe in arms,
until graduation of high school.
Alternately, as mother
after the birth of my first child,
my second, the surprise of pure love,
as surprise when I fell for Mike,
for such a long time now
Is the entire length of Zeno’s paradox.
Is softer than I'd like.