A photo of you and your sister scrolls across;
I feel the weight of you, ten years past,
sharp and sudden. I curve my body around
the ghost-memory, how you slept, sodden,
for hours against my chest, sweaty damp.
Yesterday we wrestled in the water, summer’s
arrival bringing backyard pool and water pistols;
you are stronger now, and relentless in battle,
but mama’s hug attack still makes you laugh
and wins me the sweetest (temporary) victory.
*****
June 7, 2021
