when i wear a braid

tiny fingers touch
my neck. "wow, beautiful,
oh my word," she says.

fight or flight

"wow wow wow" she says
in a giant exhale. "oh
my word.  wonderful."

we are walking through
our neighborhood in the
dark for the first time,

and she is amazed.
i remember when i felt
that same vertigo,

the height and mass of
the city nearly sucked me
in as i looked up --

her father saw my
panic and said, "don't worry,
it's like a big hug."

she knows.

i am frustrated.
our cat has been howling for
forty five minutes.

not sweet little mews
but full-blown MROOOOOOWs that echo
down the hall, through the

baby monitor --
insanity in stereo sound.
a sippy cup drops

and spills.  our dog barks
and paces.  our other cat
chirps, demanding food.

the sonic clutter
is closing in around me.
then from far away,

a tiny voice says,
"bonjour mama. how are you?"
it's a warm blanket;

empathy that she
doesn't even understand.
"all better.  Thank you."

Two.

I have 2 more days 

with my baby.  2 more days

because the experts

decided seven-

hundred-thirty-one days is

long enough for her

to be so young.  And 

I would keep her this way,

milky-breathed and soft,

were it not for my

curiosity about

what she'll grow to be.

my gluten-intolerant friend taught me this.

guess what gang? when you're
super drunk, yo sangwitch don't
need no fuckin bread.

"Aww. Now that's too bad."

"Your boy is handsome."
"You kiddin me ?  He's gorgeous."
His pit is in tact

with clipped ears, something
I don't normally like, but
this wasn't a hack job.

"And how bout your girl ?"
he says, appraising Siouxsie.
She's a tangle of

leaves, stink, grass, and curls.
"I guess she's alright" I say.
He assesses me.

"Yeah, yeah, I feel ya.
But you ?  You're lookin pretty
damn sweet.  You married ?"

come here, let's do a quick pony

"you look so pretty
with your hair tied back" i say
in my mother's voice