by Anna Hillary 

My baby’s dancing and what am I if not watching through amber honey tired happy and worried always relaxing into her love it’s so thick my stomach hurts now she’s talking to her bear she hugs him and kisses his nose my whole body screams soft melting butter while the two cats watch the rain in sync with the grey and I know they’re not anxious until the dog barks the doorbell rings the truck honks and they remember they’re not ancient they’re cats of today even though the a/c doesn’t work and it feels like 1963 the hot streets of NYC with kids in the water hydrants not the river but from here I see the delta green and boggy shine bright the toothy trail of marsh I’m also a puddle and sometimes I flood so go easy on the brine my bloody mary’s salty enough the spice is me fire alive and I just want to fall from my fellow stars, fade, flower, grow again and side by side we rise through life as you get bigger I burst in bliss, drown my nostalgia, slump into the gutter of learning to let go of the grip so birds fly and fish swim rather than dimly caging them.