My life begins

at my first memory—

laid on a bed

bottle in mouth

I drift to sleep.

I wake up to dampness pressed

against my cheek.

My milk has spilled

and anger fills

my little chest;

I call to my Other

who bends over me

a full moon in a dark sky.

I make my commands:

precise, clear and neat.

She nods in obedience

as she picks me up

and wraps me in her self.