You are my daughter…
because your sweater and socks
which I folded but forgot on the breakfast table,
seeing them only now after I put you to bed,
…tell me so.
You’re learning about what’s funny.
I looked at you, I mean straight at you for maybe minutes
To see what could happen but also to look just the same
You turned this way and that, averting my stare–
Then you right back to me and glared…
The other night, with an empty bottle in your hand
you pretended to sleep, drink drinking drank away…
Your eyes suddenly opening as if to see if I’d “gotten it”
I am so grateful for all this…