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Living with daughters

They are an amber saplings from my heart

pushing against the world

making room for themselves

amongst plastic hangers

and fast moving traffic


the eldest comes into my room

throws herself across my bed easily

she says hi, school’s just ok

there is nothing more to talk about


we sit together

me looking at her

she, my daughter not yet a woman

looks at the ceiling

there is a warm quiet between us this night


I turn and go back to my writing

she stays a little longer

then makes her way

to the kitchen

teases her sister

filling some of the 

emptiness of the day

from the ice box

Sharon Lopez Mooney, “Living with daughters”, from Sybil Journal, ed. & publ. H.D. & Stephen R. Spencer,

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