Curses spilled from her mouth
And milk leaked into the shirt
The baby biting hard
at new blood
And macrophages
Baby still colostrum-laughing
Licking poems off her pages
A poem of milk
Is to be consumed by whomever needs it
And blood is fed
Brain, stomach and heart
The whole water bed
And even light can cut
And conjugate
Talk soft to
The Earth that was its mate
And even life on Mars
In tiny yurts and huts
Can’t lose the link to Earth
Still stirring in our guts
Beauty is Imperfection 