The little fingers, soft and silky
slip into my achy, stiff ones.
“Can I go to New York one day and touch snow, mama?”
“What does a crumpet taste like?”
Sometimes she gets serious…
“Did you know daddy had crushes before?”
“On other girls?”
The puzzle she’s trying to piece together,
The one she thinks I’ve figured out.
i’m five again
nestling my nose into the wrinkle of your armpit
the sweet, salty skin
of a mom
when we close our eyes
a wave of a wand
a sprinkle of fairy dust
in the blackness of my lids
we’re back together
i take a lick
Sagit Maier-Schwartz is a writer living in California.