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You
are under the hair but not talking
to
me or looking at me, just sucking
intent
on my breast while your hair
carries
on its conversation with my nose,
lifting
up soft and white from the thin sheet
of
skin on your bony head, saying
fluff
fluff fluff fluff fluff.
I
am over the breast watching you
but
not talking to you, just sitting
with
you and sniffing your hair,
while
my milk comes lolloping, lolloping,
all
lopsided, hurtling into your mouth
and
pooling itself for the headlong slide
(sort
of a talking) down your throat.
Now
the milk is almost asleep, just a drip
of
attention in your mouth then nothing
and
you call it to you with one last suck
but
it is sleepy now, just a baby pool of milk,
that
you swill down into the dark and dismiss
with
a swing of your eyes, hello! hello!
hello!
hello! you come racing back to me.
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