The Summer of Celia

 by Elizabeth Spires

Is this a dream? The August sun,

the trees in the moment before their decline,

the high bodiless clouds skimming the horizon,

 the water a second skin my strokes

slough off, and Celia swimming 

her small strokes inside me as I swim?

Celia, the first and only one, 

who fits like a seed in my sleeping palm,

who comes unspeaking to me in dreams,

her eyes half blue, half brown.

I cannot remember my own time, floating 

in the warm birth sac, my mother asleep,

the waters still, the two of us dreaming.

What, what did we dream of?

Speak to me, Celia. Speak. Speak.

Before birth erases memory and suddenly

you are taken from me, then given back,

wrapped in the white gown of forgetting,

changed, utterly changed. As I will be.

This is our summer, the summer of the dream

we will, too soon, awaken from, 

shocked and surprised, in our separate bodies.







This weekend I read Elizabeth Spire's book Worldling.  It's a beautiful collection of poems about the relationship between mother and daughter.  I posted this particular poem in honor of a niece I have yet to meet and her sweet mom.   Rebecca, I can imagine your strong swimmer strokes and your daughter swimming nimbly inside you.  

Read Elizabeth Spire's book with daughter held close.  

You can purchase it used for one penny plus shipping on Amazon.  

Rebecca, your copy is on its way.