may

Today I heard a mother talking to her newborn son
she didn't know I was listening

she told him all about her day
she called him 4 names, all very soft names
I could hear her smile and tighten him to her chest
she said, you suck like a mad man.

she swaddled him in her dress
she had an accent like a porch light, a guide for her baby
I suppose
and I envied him
with his small nostrils and lips full of yellow milk
his mother blazing a sunny kiss across his head

and in that moment I remembered nothing about childhood
except the pink parts my mother would sometimes butter me with
she always saved the red heart of the watermelon for one of us
never for herself
she would hand me the shiny lesson, looking directly in my eyes
she said this was the best part
she said I should eat it before it stopped beating.