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Click heresometimes the apple never falls
I leaned against the doorway
alphabet blocks and blankets blurred
like some pseudo-cubist's take on dali
and of course I had an idea which one was mine
something about her nap-matted hair
long bangs hiding her wild green eyes
and how she appeared lost somewhere else
in the seemingly random patterns on the rugs
but still I waited
for the babysitter, no, daycare worker? no.
care provider?
Yes. I waited for the provider
to lift her from the floor and bring her to me
she screeched and arched away from my arms,
just wanting to be put down again and I froze
Is she -- ?
The Provider looked down.
We think she might be.
We.
Always easier to deliver the news in plural.
But on the way out
my girl and I looked in the unbreakable
wall mirror and she relaxed again.
I made a face and she smiled
raspberries made her laugh
she was okay as long as I held her facing away
not sure who was holding her
it could be anyone.
poem, wonderfully styled with strong, emotive language. I loved the ending.
Great stuff, mentioned in today's new poem reviews