Raspberry

This can't be less bearable,
the way you hoist her in her raspberry dress
across the table in the diner.
Hoist her high so her shiny little shoes
clear the glasses standing there.
She settles on your lap a small raspberry thing
and you bend yourself to her.
Your eyes can't seem to see anything other
than her tucked in the crook of your arm.
Your brother's child. You bend your face to her
and it hurts to see the way your lips
settle in the creases of her neck.
You're smelling her.
She's serious.
You've become uncle buffoon, would do anything
for the blessing of her smile.
In the mirror I see the sadness on my face
as I sit new and not quite part of it.