My daughter asks me constantly
if I would still love her
if a variety of horrible
things happened to her.
Would I love her if she woke up
and her eyes had closed for good?
Would I love her if she still had eyes
but they were on her chin?
Would I love her if she had no teeth,
if she looked like a bear,
if she suddenly shrank
and I had to carry her
inside a ziplock bag?
I tell her the same thing every time,
that I would love her even more.
Then today, I happened to read
about a woman in India whose husband
doused her face with acid.
She woke up
and her eyes
had closed
for good.
My daughter asks me why I’m crying
as I kiss the thin butterfly softness
of her eyelids
and I can barely get the words out
for they are the same ones
that woman’s mother said to her
when she woke up
inside her melted skin
“I love you even more.”