I opened her one body of work
with its firm spine
and many undiscovered pages
and read as if it were written in braille.

She was.

Soon I knew the soft pages
and steam of paragraphs
inside and out
and loved what I read
and laughed.

We took turns reading aloud
and discovered new words
through the book
and across its pages
full of new question marks
and the lingering old ones.

She opened my one body of work.
We read long into the good, good night.