A Child Again
I want a pail between her legs.
I want my hands caress breast.
I want nipple held soft, finger
gently play both up and down.
I want her face turning to look.
I want her eye to ask question:
“Are you happy? Is this a joy? ”
I like her milk warm and sweet
right from the tit, in a glass
and gargling then see my teeth
pearl strong thanks to the milk.
In skin-bag I pour excess, later
boil it to make yoghurt to give
butter to eat as food fry an egg.
I want my mum to bake bread
and I’ll skim milk’s fat Nan-to
as my Nashta for day is Dough.
I miss the goats; also the sheep.
I miss that day and milking all
daily twice, once is before also
after ending graze and a return
with their shepherd…
I want to be a child again.
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