Opaque (Foster Care)

I snake in copper-

colored bobby pins 

the morning of her 

birth mom’s visit. 

Sorry, I say at each weak 

strand’s silent pop. 

It’s fine, she says, 

flinchless, tapping 

her finger on 

the kitchen window, 

there’s that blind dog 

taking a walk, following 

its owner. I collect 

the mess of translucent 

elastics, (they are 

everywhere and smaller 

even than the hazel 

rims of her irises, 

coins of marsh moss 

in milk-white 

pools) and I watch 

that dog linger, 

hackles up, shoulders 

stalking. Watch its 

muzzle pivot toward 

me, like it can see 

me with those all-

clouds eyes. 

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Cover photo by Bernadetta Watts