by Melissa Kutsche
Tuesday morning
during breakfast
she devours faces
from the picture on the wall.
Where was I when you got married?
Not born yet
is an unnamed place.
She is not satisfied
and she takes another bite
sticky with honey.
Where was I when I wasn’t born yet?
I think of the acorns she collects
from the sidewalk near our home.
There was a tiny piece of you inside Mommy.
Now she is beside me
loosed from my branches.
Do the seedlings
ever look down
and wonder about the acorns?
