LIPS half-willing in a doorway.
Lips half-singing at a window.
Eyes half-dreaming in the walls.
Feet half-dancing in a kitchen.
Even the clocks half-yawn the hours
And the farmers make half-answers.
by Adrienne RichPiece by piece I seem
to re-enter the world: I first began
a small, fixed dot, I still can see
that old myself, a darkblue thumbtack
pushed into the scene,
a hard little head protruding
from ...