I sit at our tall dining room table, home from college. You place a cold glass of milk next to an enormous slice of pão doce, Portuguese sweet bread, which covers most of my plate. You are not eating, but I feel the quick squeeze of your hand on my shoulder. I’m trying to be happy with just that—no words from you, but this small gesture. Come. Eat. I smile at you as you walk into the kitchen. As always, I like the yellow fluffy bread better than the milk, but I drink the whole glass between sweet bites.
Ana C. H. Silva's poetry chapbooks are One Cupped Hand Above the Other and While Mercury Fish. She lives in New York City and the Catskills. Instagram: @anachsilvaart