July 17, 2007
losing my place in the gallery

with thanks to Ken, who admired the anecdote

My baby was made
of butter cookies
and anxiety.
Sweet comfort food
and the sickly fear that I was not enough.

My boy is made
of pancakes
(whole wheat and low fat mango yoghurt),
and the hope that the confidence is founded on a deep rock,
a well of sweet water,
and a translucent dandelion fluff
(dancing through the summer
just as he dances through his second solo swim lesson).

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Don't make me send out the Blake. He doesn't listen to *anyone.*