In the backseat,
Vivian says, Mom,
I want to know
the darkness,
and so rolls down
her window
and shouts,
Hello Night!
And then she
whispers something
to the air
that I can’t hear
though I strain
against the rush
of road noise
to decipher her words.
The conversation belongs
to her, though, and
to the night, and to
the window that
already she has learned
to open herself.
I like how the title offers a hint to the words the poem claims not to hear, a great way to enter this poem, and to go back to it. I can see this poem offered itself to you, or it reads like that, but for your graceful ending in the last six lines, that learning about the window, perfect. Like mother, like daughter, I guess. Always a new way to see…
R. I like the double meaning of her learning to open the window — J.
Thank you Dear Jim! It was nice how it unfolded that way and surprised me, too!
The innocence, the acceptance, and the mystery of your daughter, yourself, and the night
Thanks, Steve …