The nest over the lamp outside has more twigs this year, less flutter of wings, an emptier porch and I don't want to look at eggs reflected in mirrors or otherwise, don't want to steal away moths, observe their wings in a jar. I keep away from trees that cannot bloom but a few sprigs of purple and white - that great green shadow of life which I can't pretend is invisible stuff - only the breeze inspires a breath filling the hope/dream of my chest. * We sat in those two easy chairs, part of a triangle whole, sometimes telling, sometimes watching the swivel explain what we knew - of fears on parade within our child, impulses she cannot gather inside, her voice's desperate joy, unruly and loud when winning the game - the same tumult when losing - the loss of speech when control can't be found. A label isn't what we want, only the option: chemical or not? Focus our daughter's attention with antidepressants or ritalin? The question we don't ask: this time, will it work? + The nih called and it's all arranged - another appointment, another chance to beg for some relief. Give me my paper authorization, give me the promise of new medications, not for dry hope, just for the change - after sitting so long I just want to shake. Running in place always loses its charm. I crave destinations - anything strange. Lousy at quilt-making, I need a new pattern. Lousy with symptoms, I need alterations.