Daughter

we must breathe, must we even 
if it means creating the air
the way it's done in all the stories
all weeping and tyranny and laughter 
your bright laughter, inflating the world

Mother

must we breathe? We must
each day the new creation, enduring
what will feel like endless miles
the way it's told in stories
alive, compelled to inflate the world


Wife

the secret: breathing, must touch
the air of all the new worlds 
we are born in new each morning
like in those stories we write, smiling
at small beauties buried in the the world