Milk
When I learned your mother
hadn’t breastfed you,
I wanted to do it.
Having no milk,
we would have to imagine it.
“It tastes like moonlight,”
I would say, feeling the silent warmth empty
from my breast, a grown man suckling
that long denied nourishment,
a homecoming.
[Meet the Moon | Christian Schloe]
Visitant 
:>)
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