I Found In My Bed This Morning A Body Waking Up

I found at my door this morning a woman with lines under her eyes
who, for many years, had driven past my home on her way to the doctor’s office.
Who had a rare blood disease,
which made her terribly pale.
Who had a mole on the side of her neck
which made her very nervous.
Who dyed her hair a tasteful blonde,
which made her less like her mother.

I found in a drawer this morning photographs of my sister with brown eyes
who, until just recently, had taught English to Chinese girls
who never cried as a child
which made her terribly well-liked.
Who sang the national anthem at the top of her lungs
which made the Olympics very interesting.
Who wore her hair the way she woke up
which made her just like our mother.

I found in the yard this morning an entire collection of dandelions
finding purchase in the spot between the swing set and the shed
I found in my mouth just now more spit than I knew what to do with
which, in my swallowing, I must have forgotten.