losing my place in the gallery
with thanks to Ken, who admired the anecdote
My baby was made
of butter cookies
Sweet comfort food
and the sickly fear that I was not enough.
My boy is made
(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.*