I am from this room
I am from jugs of water everywhere
I am from windows that should
always stay open so the outside
doesn’t get in, or they should always
stay closed, or, I forget, just do whatever
they tell you to do with the windows
and don’t ask questions.
I am from mosquitos so large you want to
name and pet them
I am from family without blood
I’m from the song you hear
inside this room
I am from rooms filled with sunflowers and strawberries
rooms overlooking lakes,
where lifetime bonds are formed.
I am from the front row and the hand
I hold in the front row.
I am from are you going this year?
What kind of question is that?
are you breathing this year?
I am from this room
where I breathe.
I am from this room,
and when people ask where I am from
I try to describe it…it’s round, it’s holy,
you should just come.
I am from absent voices
whose words and melodies
make the lights go on.
I am from this moment and this song
I am from this room.
And so are you.