Baby Care Instructions

Before you lived, I lived inside my own loathing. Some parents have children to replace themselves, but we’re two instead of none. Pushing you on a swing, sunset, my hands on your mammalian back, I remember how everyone thought I’d kill you by mistake, my throat in hives because I believed them. You made me too, daughter drawing the last sip from a juice box, wisps of hair rising in the dirty breeze. I show you how to kick to propel yourself, and all threat dips like the sun behind the jungle gym. I may have been born a knife, but my daughter won’t be a knife, nor its willing sheath.