Alphabet Soup

My baby won’t eat her bowl full of alphabet soup.

She just licks the chocolate spoon before it melts into her veins.

She burps soda bubbles — one, two, three of them

that float high to the cotton candy sunset.

Her sticky fingers cling to her curls.

I whisper, “the letters will free you.”

An “S” for her spunk, a “C” for her curious brain, and finally an “E” for her boundless energy.

Her fingers loosen and lift her bowl to her face.

She swallows that freedom in one big gulp.

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