Sharon Olds BAROMETER

Being a woman whose elder sister
abandoned a child —dropped her mid-journey,
left her like a husband— I am not like other mothers.

At night, I go into my daughter's room,
and listen to the cool, creaking cistern
of her breath; I go into my son's, the cricket
still safe in his throat, his chest;

I wish I could stand over my own bed
and listen to my breathing, to know what weather's coming.