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ahbengoPoems
I think often Of breastfeeding The tip of my ****** tickling his skin-thin upper gum. In my imagination It is many minutes of calm I cup his head Which fits into a palm and a half My body is full With his quiet innocence. I imagine trying to imagine How much he doesn’t know All the ***** things This action may mean one day How he doesn’t know What a kitchen is Or a mortgage or an income His fears are not boring. Mine are of finances and guilt His involve teethed creatures and deaf silences. He does not know what it means For the time to be 3:15 Nor can he comprehend The recentness of his existence. I and the cat are nocturnal He lives in intervals. We associate babies With a soft pink I imagine Looking into his eyes Two wrinkly slits Wondering how to Confirm this.
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Nov 27, 2013
Nov 27, 2013 at 1:18 AM UTC
Breast-Fed Musings
I think often Of breastfeeding The tip of my ****** tickling his skin-thin upper gum. In my imagination It is many minutes of calm I cup his head Which fits into a palm and a half My body is full With his quiet innocence. I imagine trying to imagine How much he doesn’t know All the ***** things This action may mean one day How he doesn’t know What a kitchen is Or a mortgage or an income His fears are not boring. Mine are of finances and guilt His involve teethed creatures and deaf silences. He does not know what it means For the time to be 3:15 Nor can he comprehend The recentness of his existence. I and the cat are nocturnal He lives in intervals. We associate babies With a soft pink I imagine Looking into his eyes Two wrinkly slits Wondering how to Confirm this.
Written by
ahbengo
Pakistani
Nov 27, 2013
Nov 27, 2013 at 1:18 AM UTC
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