Riona

i will not forget these moments:
your tea party picnic
Charlotte and all
plastic food eaten
and regurgitated for later.

your thrill at holding the yoke
carrying buckets of water from well
being four and a half years
full of smiles.

your dances/songs
where you spin on sticky bare feet
and intertwine your love for me
with utterances of sisterly annoyances.

your hands held defiantly high
when they try to mock you:
I AM ONLY FOUR
in beauteous indignation.

Mythili

you’ve been duped.
i couldn’t tell you
couldn’t find the words
for me taking a day off
driving you to the dentist
forcing you to sit in the chair.

you sit silent as a stone
as the laughing gas
is put like clown’s nose
into your lungs.
they say how good you are
again and again.

he cuts into your gums
and i watch as your fists clench,
but not a tear streaks down,
not a grumble or whine.

we move to the car,
plastic jewelry prizes in hand.
i buckle you in
and you shoot me the
you tricked me look.

we arrive home
to a fridge full of
pudding, jello, ice cream.
you remember you are six
(not all grown up)
and break into a jubilant smile.

Isabella

you won’t listen
but you’ll direct.
Pull the tails off like this.
I’ll hold my fingers. You count.
Find the letter M.
Twist the bottom of the toothbrush.

like a monkey you climb
onto the counter
scavenging for spoons
plates
glassware
assigning seats at the table
with the air of a hostess

i remember when
the other babies were here.
you couldn’t walk,
but you climbed right into
the patio chair
giggling like a gorilla
posing proudly
at your accomplishments,
confident then,
leader now.