By Meredith Mason

When I dreamed I was taking care of a salamander
I woke up and thought now that I am a mother
I dream only about the baby.

I used to see them on wooded paths.
Tangerine skin, hands like stars
bright against the ground.

And of course
the salamander is the baby.
But also something else.

A few blocks from where I live
there’s a bank with mirrored windows.
I glance left, and there I am.

Small person, long stride, brown hat.
Not remarkable, but still,
a miracle, a survivor

creature on this earth
with her ways.