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I Nod When the School's Visiting Doctor Asks If I Eat Three Meals a Day
In my family
you recreate invisible
and freeze like a rabbit.
You do not cry—
God can read your mind.
In my family, you lie
in the snow and dream
how your birth happened:
the rough edge of the tabletop,
the knuckles of the artist father
who paints all night in a disease.
Then leaves and leaves. No one
confesses anything.
The black and blue mother
scrapes herself together
and into the world comes
a baby with her mouth open.
In my family you tame your needs.
You bite—but don't chew—
the winter leaves.
You drink milk-white snow
from your mittens.
Copyright © 2023 Jessica Cuello All rights reserved
from Liar
Barrow Street Press
Reprinted by Verse Daily® with permission
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