Blink

I loved being six years old,
my thumb never leaving my mouth,
Felicity never leaving my arms,
and butterfly clips with sparkly wings on springs to the body
leaving my hair only when I slept,
just before which time I would place them
gently onto the bathroom counter
until I would wake around six o'clock in the morning
and could run to put them back in.

The interpreters all called me, "miss,"
and told me I had insects in my hair.