Heaven, 1963

It’s my favorite photo— 
captioned, “Daddy and His Sweetheart.” 
It’s in black and white, 
it’s before Pabst Blue Ribbon, 
before his tongue became a knife 
that made my mother bleed, 
and before he blackened my eye 
the time he thought I meant to end my life. 

He’s standing in our yard on Porter Road 
beneath the old chestnut tree. 
He’s wearing sunglasses, 
a light cotton shirt, 
and a dreamy expression. 

He’s twenty-seven. 
I’m two. 
My hair, still baby curls, 
is being tossed by a gentle breeze. 
I’m fast asleep in his arms.

Kim Noriega