Vera and Bob don’t own a car, but her parents offer
to drive them from Ithaca with their three-week-old boy,
who’s gorgeous and complicated as a galaxy.
Vera loves the way the baby seems knowable
in the moment but holds secrets inside.
Thick snow blows over the sedan her father
sometimes pulls over to scrape ice off the windshield.
The heater clatters and clangs. As the car skids,
Vera tightens her grip on the baby on her lap.
Your father escaped from anti-Semitic thugs in Poland,
Mom says. He can get his family through a New York blizzard.
They arrive safely at the conference center.
Her mother minds the baby while Vera speaks
from the podium. After some applause, she hurries out
to see how her boy is faring.
The next day her speech is reported
on the front page of the Washington Post:
YOUNG MOTHER FINDS CENTER OF CREATION.