You who didn’t begin
a stubborn girl, a cell
in my side, membrane
only your father
could cross, only once,
twinning butterfly,
gill-slit primitive,
cluster of grapes,
snowflake paper cutout
unfolding near
infinity. Not in me.
Would you satisfy
the primal?
Could you fool
the lizard brain?
One day, October gray,
you diapered, bibbed,
strapped in the ebony high chair,
black hair squash-smeared—
will I, seeing nothing
of myself in your face,
think how unremarkable,
think what have I done?
● ● ●
