Daughter (Dis)Connected

I huff into her room, hackles
raised, determined
to confiscate
that damned device, but
she smiles, pats her bed.
I stretch out beside her, slump
into her pillow, a puff
of strawberries and sweat. “Look,”
she says, head turned
toward the window. Together
we gaze, two birds nestled
at the breast of towering
trees, feasting on fiery fruit
swimming in syrup. Limbs sprout,
branches fork cotton candy
stretched by sticky fingers, a sliver
of moon skewered. I stroke
her forehead, smooth
her hair, cradle
deep into soft down.
Sixty seconds, sixteen years.
A kiss on my cheek. “Mama?”
She presses
into my palm
the cold curse.
“Will you plug this in?
It’s dead.”