first visit...

At the table, your
mom spins the
casserole around,
and I split into a
million pieces when
I hear my name,
cupped in palms
like a fledgling
bird, or a downy
puppy-wolf, teeth
gummy and belly
soft, so open and
clear. Their shirts
spoke for them,
(you are pack,
you are blood,
you are ours)
and I know I
can never look
at mahogany
the same again.