to my daughter on her ninth 

Nine.

the moments I wrestle, unwinning

missing the hugs.

Eight.

the precise number of tears

gouging my cheeks at night.

Seven.

the stares of my heart

into the void, unseeing.

Six.

the curses I fling

sticking like tar to my thoughts.

Five.

the sighs escaping at your smiles

framed by shy dimples.

Four.

the times I reconsider each

imagined pain I inflict.

Three.

the paralytic chains compressing me

constricting more tightly.

Two.

the hands I ache to hold

engulfed in my own.

One.

you.

the heart I covet.