Perfection

Nine pounds of perfection

with Lake Michigan eyes on a hot August day

ten fingers, ten toes

and Hollywood lips.

She’s got her father’s dimples.

So you must be wrong

She’s all right.

If you remove the tubes and wires

turn off the blinking lights–

Let me hold her and you’ll see.

Once she’s in my arms

hearing my voice

her skin against mine

she’ll be fine.  Really.

You can’t know her like I do.

She’s a fighter.

We were one for nine months

I understand her.

She should be with me

not in your little plastic box

surrounded by masks and gloves.

She needs me.

My baby is just fine.

You’ll see.

Perfection.

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