The Newborn
Barely 5 lbs 8 oz,
she sleeps before me
and snores through
her half-open mouth.
She clenches her
tiny palms.
Tight chest, fisted heart;
tight tight—
sweat trickles down
her cotton onesie.
She furrows her brow, soggy
with worry and sadness.
She will spend a lifetime
confusing those feelings.
I want to undo these lessons for her.
No one will want to hold
this sticky, too-clingy baby,
especially in summer
when the air
sags around her.
How do I teach her love?
Her face, my face.
I would recognize her anywhere.