i am from new york
and kentucky
from fireman’s pond
and the kentucky river,
from long drives on
sunday after church
along a winding river road,
from long roadtrips 
late at night in the back
seat of a pinto, or comet
or the camper of a ford truck
to averill park, new york.
i am from aunt nancy’s magic bag
and eleanor’s birthday cakes in 
the middle of the night
upon arrival to grammy
and grampa’s house by the pond.
i am from fried catfish and 
cornbread with thick slices
of tomatoes from opal’s garden
corn on the cob smothered
in homemade butter and
green beans fresh from breaking.
i am from motorcycle riding
uncle ken laughting with
my dad about navy stories 
and jerry clower records
around the table with cups 
of coffee and glowing 
stained glass light.
i am from cousins catching
crawdads in the creek,
making mud pies in the
dirt driveway after summer rain
weaving cattails into placemats
and singing around the organ
while grampa plays happy birthday.
i am from fancy aunt betty
with stylish clothes and scarfed
hair high on her head,
scars up to her elbow from
the fire that burned her daughter,
the one i thought so beautiful 
with long black hair and fake
eyelashes whose scars i never
saw until mom showed me
her school pictures and i 
couldn’t imagine how strong
she must have been.
i am from north and south,
from river wading and ocean
playing, shell collecting and
rock skimming, barefoot 
all summer, camping in maine. 
i am from strength and weakness
sadness and joy, artists and fishermen,
teachers and writers, farmers 
and dreamers,
so many came before me
i carry them always, all the stories.

6/17/24
KW