Bloodmilk

tiny child
helpless in fogged senses
the moon reflected
in vague eyes
watching my face in the night

redly mouthing milk
coaxed from my breast
from my breast
with its tides
and storm-wreckage,
fires burning sadly
the wastes vast
of repressed silences

tiny child
ubiquitous
pivoting my life around
the compulsive clenching
and unclenching
of your fists,
your screaming desperate cries
changing my blood
to milk
which you tickle out of me.