23 years

ago.  Someone slicing

me open.  You, red-faced

and screaming, dark hair,

eyes tiny slits, still blind.

Me, sitting on the edge

you suckling.  I remember

thinking, I am tired of this, already

moving away. Your father

in the background, easy to be

patient.  One day, he said,

you will miss

this moment.  23 years

later, you

far away,

I do.