Raising The Fifth

The Lost Child

by Lynn Valentine

Your shadow darkens on the flap of the tent,
summoned in nylon and mushroom breath.

A pigtail hangs long on your back, mimicking mine.
I want to take your hand, say daughter, daughter.

Repeat daughter, daughter.
Say the words until the air becomes you.

Daughter, daughter, I had a name
for you. I gave that name to the dog.

Published in Un(mother) by Growing Poetry, 2021

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