The staff have moved herself
from the I.C.U. to Emergency Care.
She can’t talk just yet.
 
Soft smiles, ask for her birthday
every time someone brings the food.
 
This morning she has walked
for the first time since the stroke
and writes thoughts down now.
 
they always ask her birthday
when it’s time for pills.
 
Today, nurses coached her 
to look at things in the room
and name what items she can.
 
The glow in the room ignites
as she invents new words
   
      for all the pieces of her world.
 
A window is a bye-bye
her plate of food, yum.
 
Folded clothes on a chair
is good business.
 
Doctors smile and nod,
Linda nods too, she knows
these are the correct words.
 
Think about it, wow, she’s right.
When the therapists are done
 
they are smiling, point at me,
 “and who is he?” 
She has trouble with my name,
 
she won’t get it right.
And then, as if she hadn’t just
 
learned how to move her arm;
flips a casual hand my way,
          oh,       that’s everything.      I melt.