I wish I could tune into her like a pop
song. But no, she wants me to look inside
uncommonly quiet places — the crow’s
small torpedo beak or the cozy new
pod of wild blue indigo. Mother,

where are you? Gone 13 years
& still playing hide
& seek. In another dream, I
search for recognizable
whispers. Maybe you are a bonfire

in Gujarat or a black
hole at heart of the Milky Way
& the dusty interstellar
cloud surrounding it. Are you studying
thermodynamics or gliding

with stingrays on the Baja Coast?
Whatever you are up to it must be damn
good. Must be magnificent as rubies
& gold where you are, but why, why,
why can’t you visit me?