My Milk
Tied to baby’s hunger, my breasts harden
into tiny fists tightening before a fight.
They call down the milk, it rushes, a storm
of meteors to his mouth wide open.
His sucking tugs at my nipple, fills him
with light. What if I fail, don’t have enough?
His sucking tugs at my nipple, fills him
with light. What if I fail, don’t have enough?
