WAVES

by Sally W. Bliumis

To see water
pull itself

into perfect arcs,
as if to mimic

the crescent moon,
the way the shape

of my daughter's eyes
makes her undeniably

mine—there's nothing
she need say or do

to show her origins.
She can remain

in silence. To see
water lift away

as though
it kept wanting

to be held
in the empty

hands of air.