I come from the joining of two bodies and no love
my creation an act of odd luck
that turned a woman from soldier to mother
took everything wild and weird in her
and molded it into me
I am the daughter of a reader
and I’d like to think much of who I am
seeped into my being
from the words in her favorite books
birthing a hopeless romantic
a believer in real love and happy endings
and yet
l recognize the need for honesty
for hard conversations
the couples in my mother’s stories
never got anywhere before they told their truths
so I never really learned how to hide mine
I walk this life open like
a good book
let strangers trace my pages with curious fingers
seeking something to explain all this loving
can anyone
really
understand a living novel
a walking talking story who writes
everyone
into her plot
with a hello and a smile
it’s hard not to end up a character
when you tangle with my type
the daughter of a reader
a book made flesh
a storyteller