Originally published in Alaska Women Speak and the Alaska Humanities Forum, FORUM magazine.
I feed you
smoked salmon
and saag aloo. You
devour salmonberries
from our overgrown garden
and your grandmother’s
chicken curry—not as spicy
as when your uncle
made it after our wedding. We sat
in a room of laughing
tear tracks, the chili pepper
was so strong.
One of you
has eyes the color
of silty glacier water, like
me. And one
has eyes the color
of moss,
gazing up at the sky
from the bottom
of a clear stream. Neither,
have your dad’s
bronze skin
or amber eyes.
Your baby…
Read the full poem here.