Every Winter Evening Before Bath Time, Momma Tweezed the Lint from My Bellybutton and Saved It in a Jelly Jar with a Label Marked “Spring”

It’s for the nesting robins, she’d warble, picking at the hollow where the soft cord that once bound us used to be. Then she counted my toes and chirped me to sleep. Today, gathering bottles, baubles and boxes for the estate sale, wingbreeze and birdsong sweep sorrow to the street.

weight loss

I’m a carnivore. I eat for two. I gain weight. Her circumference tightens.


Besides, it was possible they’d revive.