I come in from the car.  I look at the kids.

there are still
three
of them.  I unbutton my shirt

and put on another.  my daughter, my oldest,

has kissed her hand
behind a curtain- but I am not

to know.  their mother

stays in the car
each time

much longer.  in a few moments, we will huddle

at the window
watch her
not light

a cigarette.  her daughter

is also
that strong.