after dinner and cake for her twenty-second.
Three dogs and two couches ago,
the kitchen half-painted.
On the little screen we
light the candles over and over
again, again
and let her blow them out.
She dances to a tiny electronic piano
and spins until she can’t stand up
to the applause of everyone who loves her.
I carry her as we walk her grandparents,
great-uncle, cousins
to the front door, camera following,
her head almost on my shoulder.
We stand on the front porch waving
bye-bye, bye-bye
in the gold light,
as one by one
their cars disappear
into the sun.
