For Kirsten Mae

graduation
this month
eighteen this september
i remember the year
by that first photograph
a trip past Chicago
the first World Cup
on American shores
and vinyl chair
hospital brown
near new mother's bed
placed in my arms
frightened
of destroying everything
all plump face
and mother's eyes
myself still young
but knowing one's name
before one knows herself
making me feel
impossibly adult
but life
and from nothing
into humble beginning
a baby
in cradle
while i played pirate
in park
down the street
and turning around
to refusals
of tuna salad
because dad
makes it different
and once again frightened
the destroying
the everything
but as if
in an instant
so very much more
her own force of nature
impossible to destroy
and from nowhere
that voice
impossibly adult
what had once
been red-faced wail
had since become
angelic song
and then letter on desk
unnecessary envelope
nameplate
sun-drenched photograph
announcement official
on to new life
but all i can think
is vinyl chair
hospital brown
eighteen this september
myself more child
than she