Shiny eyes.
My birthday present
from my grandma,
soft
baby
pink ears.
Packing boxes,
Mom’s vase slipped
from her hands,
shattering
on the floor.
One of its shards
sliced
off a piece
of
its
space
green
heart.
My mom sewed
it back together,
mended it
with love and
white string.
Only
two more days
to comfort it.
When we left for
America,
it stayed behind
on the couch.
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