Pursed lips suckle air, their profile tender
against nightlight’s glow. Her body wiggles,
unconscious still. A caterpillar stuck on its back,
she cannot right herself just yet. Into my arms
I lift this little being, dense as a sack of baby
potatoes. A sudden exhale as I shift her body
onto me, the warmth of her person soothing
against my sore nipples. I place my fingertips
to her chest, my palm pressed to her belly,
the other palm to her nape damp with sweat,
trace fingertips along her cheek, smooth
away a wisp of brown hair marbled to skin,
watch it spring into itself, the curls curving
as the edge of a spider web caught in moonlight.
Published in Cider Press Review, Volume 23, Issue 1.
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