Baby Girl and the Nulukmi

Baby girl likes me.

She's probably cute, aged 3 or 4,

Clad in sneakers and keliku,

But its hard to tell.

She talks to me of baby things

In throaty Inupiaq tones,

Fingers gripping at my sleeves;

Her dirty face, framing hungry eyes,

Begs approval, or even love,

From the gentler nulukmi.

Her brothers like me, too;

They say her sores don't heal

Because the dogs lick her face.