Knowing
I used to think we knew ourselves
by the facts we remembered.
But more and more, I find that the people who shaped us —
often quietly, briefly — stay nested within.
They speak even when we forget their names.
This poem was written for that voice.
Acquaintances
We remember only a few,
but we have known so many—
even those we did not speak to
in the years of our youth
still live in our gestures.
The way we lean,
the way we pause before answering—
the tone in a certain phrase
we thought we invented—
was not invention at all.
We were always
more of each other
than we let on.
We carry echoes.
And sometimes, they carry us.