tea

‘This
is how its done.’

Tiny hands conduct
the moment
settling on crossed legs

eyes locked on me

the air between us
seems to pause.

I sit
I smile,
I mean who wouldn’t.

I wait like stuffed
toys might.

and I check the
other guests

everyone attends
her words
wide eyed and
silent just like me

elmo, kitty,
and dad.

and when she
asks
‘one lump or two’
my throat
answers way too quickly
definitely
one
lump
there

followed
by
a
quickly retreating
tear.

thief

she says

‘…ya know,
some people think
that Santa is fake …’¹

my brain, freezes.

no dream here.
a sudden choke
of parent fear.
heart missed a beat,

she
made no mistake.
in her words.

they are
hot misted fog,
like tossed coffee
in sub zero air².

dammit just got
cold in here.

my eyes stay focussed
on the road.

slyly, slowly,
she adds,

‘but I know
its not true.’

I thank you
but not to you.
Or you would see
my courage fly off
like scared birds.
definitely don’t
make eye contact.

can’t,
won’t,
instead

be still,
close eyes,
send it out
to the universe.
thank you.³

a quick glance
in the mirror-
me measuring her,
she,
looking
out the window.

¹ hanging in these
moments feels like
flying
bottom drops out
from beneath me
no sense lying
about
questions that come
from spaces unknown
places and people
passing
showing that she’s grown
up and 
away from me

²like the time …
she swallowed a nickel
or
she tripped down the stairs
or
she wandered off
or
she fell off chairs
or
she choked on cheerios
or
she cut her eyebrow…
-my god, the blood…
or or or
…

³… for:
tea and
storytime and
stuffies and
painting my nails and
bedtime routine and
hugs and
letting me fell like the greatest human on the face of your planet and
the tears that fall on my keyboard right now