War Baby

The soldiers occupied the territory
of your body and
what remained was guilt and blame
for failures of protection
or resistance.
What remains is this little one.
I will not name her.

When you left
I sewed forget-me-nots (forget-her-nots)
into your petticoats
pulling hard on the threads
to stitch her
into your memory.

But for you they are
forget-him-nots
forget-them-nots
each stitch always the wound.
You unpick threads to survive.

She has her mother’s smile
this child of my child
but her cool tone eyes
foreshadow the future.
In what is now her father-land
I count her toes
in the language of her mother.