speaking, hearing, and overhearing

So many of your books were written in the year
I was born, and the most beautiful one,
printed on white canvas, with double strings attached
to each page as if anyone could tie the book up
and silence it any way s/he chooses,
was made in December that year, the month I was born.

We were almost in the same story, then,
weren't we--when I first opened my eyes to the dim light
of a winter night, bathed in my mother's water and blood,
you were probably writing the cover lines,
depicting pomegranate seeds with impressionist
"red tears" and "blood pearls."

"Yes, 'idol,' i-d-o-l, as in 'I idolize you.'"
Am I idolizing you by reading, rereading, imagining, and rewriting?