User Review( votes)
written by: Sarra Culleno
She slept on my chest every weekend of her life,
but love's familiarity evaporates.
Puppy fat stretches over elongating bones,
while affinity withers in each week’s embrace
She's so close. Her pudgy hand reaches out
through pushchair restraints, her stretch to find mine.
Oh baby girl, I lament, we can’t touch.
This abstraction is hieroglyphs… white noise:
But you my friend. You my auntie.
And you are my Darling, angel girl.
Our attachment is palpable, we both feel it.
And I am so close to
stroking her doughy, velvet cheek,
cupping her delicious double chins in my palms,
planting my kisses into her feathery hair,
squeezing her cherub form into my chest and stomach,
tickling her treasured ribs.
When I next hold her,
we will have been cleaved.
She will be tall, lithe.
We’ll be forgotten.