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Here you are, walking

the video camera up the steps toward us.

I am unstrapping the children

from their car restraints.


You have stayed at home

and cared for our youngest. I rewind

the tape, caught off guard

by the pair of you


playing on our bed.

The only word you say

throughout, Grace –

over and over.


We never see your face

only your toes. She squeals

at the delight of them

moving against her baby-skin.


I slow it down, replay. Motion

by staccato motion. Static –

the nearest thing we have

to interaction.




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