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Poetry | July 2004

Edge of the Nest

By Jessica de Koninck

Forty-five
I watch
My teenaged daughter
Run breathless
Into our house.
Refrigerator open,
She stops.
Turns to me
Eyes wide,
It’s true, she says
My friends joke
I look just like you.
Could you get a different haircut?

Twenty-nine
I fold
Tiny white undershirts
In the second floor walkup
We rent in Belleville.
I pair
Tiny yellow booties
So everything will be ready
For this baby
For whom I will never
Be ready.
If time permits
I will get my hair cut.

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