For My Daughter, on Her First Birthday
When my baby was born she had
an extra short umbilical cord
we were extra connected extra close
the doctor’s only choices were to
either cut it immediately or to place her
back in my belly where she could
drink milk from the starry inside
every day I think about how to do that
how it would have been
we could develop our own language
knock twice for yes and once for no
I would describe everything so she
wouldn’t miss a thing. I wouldn’t tell her
about the warplanes flying overhead or
about the ice caps melting around us
I could digest all the world’s pain
for her and let only the sugar pass
when the time comes for her wedding
I can dance on my husband’s feet
the way only daughters do and when
she knocks twice for “I Do”
I will cry tears of joy, my waters
breaking, causing a great flood
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Svetlana Litvinchuk is a permaculturist who holds BAs from the University of New Mexico. She is the author of a Season (Bottlecap Features, 2024). Her work has appeared or is forthcoming in Sky Island Journal, Apocalypse Confidential, Littoral Magazine, Black Coffee Review, Eunoia Review, Big Windows Review, and Longhouse Press. Originally from Kyiv, Ukraine, she now lives with her husband and daughter on their farm in the Arkansas Ozarks.