Esther lies in my arms, nursing.
She releases my nipple, laughs, points to my breast.
No, that’s not a balloon, that’s a mimi,” I scold, jokingly.
She looks at me conspiratorially.
“Apple,” she says, pointing and smiling.
“No, it’s a mimi!” I laugh.
She laughs sweetly,
milk running out her mouth,
takes a drink,
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