Her left brain
remembers the tree
falling on it when she tugged
on the tire swing.
How she stopped herself from
out loud, as the blood fountained,
and felt proud she had entered
Her right brain
remembers how her father
stalled taking her to the hospital
while her mother yelled.
How when he got them home again
that Indiana winter night he dropped them off
at the head of the half-mile driveway.
Even though her mother said: if you do
He made the choice not to take them down the driveway, but to say goodbye
the last time to his girl, to not be late for his date with his secretary,
who had broken up his marriage with her Indiana smile.