and now, eyes reflected, adrift between floor and face, luxuriant with a friendly sense of inspection, I see your brow dip, pupils focus, in a mirror that launches its peremptory look to mine, hurling an unswerving javelin to land a minimal unit of communication, an arrow, as if to nudge, to prod, to insist, on recognition, its point piercing reminiscence to drip speculation outward, leaking visions of siblings, children, kin, forms that flow, aqueous and unbroken, neither as solid as her there nor as firm as him here, the two stuck in timeworn bodies, figures whose immediacy draws attention near, their profiles glimpsed and grabbed by a motion that warps recollection and affirms the moment, its exigency, like storms of the past, eluding capture or confinement, slowing comprehension of a closeness gone, of a connection lost, whose thought, however negative, I suppose you suppose, will suffice for now, insofar as we dream of one another, a family

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