Ode to the mole on the tip of my daughter’s nose

Random, well-placed
marks make you unique.
Like a well-chosen word,
the mole on the tip
of your rounded nose,
perfects the sentence of
your face.

When you were born
your face was
swollen, squished
by my internal organs.
Though you cried and
screamed every night,
your birthmarks faded
silently. Through disappearing
milia, your singular mole

New moles arrive
everyday, dot-by-dot
constellations multiplied
despite the lotions
we spread like glue
so the sun won’t stick.
But that teeny brown mole
on the end of your nose,
the one that matches
mine, will always be
my favorite.


This poem was written as part of an online poetry class I took a few months ago. I’m slowly going through to revise the poems I wrote there. I’ll probably revisit this one a few more times, but this is my current version.

I’m also still experimenting with how to share poems and the formatting etc. I’m not super pleased with how this looks on the screen, so if you have any tips, I’m all ears!

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