Don’t blink little girl;
years intertwine, good with maybe less good,
never truly bad if your eyes are open;
it keeps on
like a chain of fragile silver threads intermingling,
shining like that worn around your infant neck,
.in the church while we waited for angel wings to sprout from you.
“”of course you were baptized” I tell you;
so perfectly devoid of history, of language of fear;
“the priest- the only trusting father I’d ever know”
“gracefully dribbled blessed water upon your downy head,
warm and lasting like hopes.” “you cried, so sensitive”
He crossed the t on your forehead, on your heart and your glossy sweet mouth
but I always joked, “why leave the i’s un-dotted?”
Daddy wasn’t sure, he pleaded, against pomp and ancient principle
I pleaded, what if? And relished the occasion to wear shiny shoes.
On Monday you grew, smarter, more cunning;
then shapely and melancholy and your heart begged for more.
You packed your boxes to leave and your mouth forgot to say goodbye.
I re-baptized my self- in my pillow each night…. solace eventually in my own tears.
I soon found baking, I baked pies, I baked cookies, I salted them with the rarest of salts,
the batter folded tenderly like the lives of parents of grown children;
light and fluffy only if not over tended to.
….better when you separated out the yolks;
honoring them for the separate yellow souls they are,
the whites just there to remind you- there’s extra
to keep you buoyant.