Escondido

For Hannah

you were born on campus, a western peninsula

where morning fog is burned away by sun-shafts, moted pine, eucalyptus.

your dad and i were transplants in student housing,

apartment your basic shoebox diorama

to which we brought you home, arranged the scene.                         

we sat on the couch, you, propped and asleep in your car seat between us,

rosebud manifestation of surreal, our hearts beating outside our bodies,

gathering itself to begin our continuing education.