nursing

I am not a machine, nor just a vessel.
I am soft and warm and your head fits
in the crook of my arm
like it was designed that way.

But society's collective voice
is one of discomfort
as if the weight and length of you
defines what you need from me.
as if your ability to tell me your need -
the evidence of the development of your brain
with all its layers like an onion -
means my response should change

"you can tell me now in three or four words
that you need me
that you want me to hold you
in the cocoon of my arms
and nourish you from my body,
and so now, because of this,
I can no longer do that."




As if deep dimples on the
   back of your dumpling hand
         with skin as smooth
                as the petal of a flower

                  isn't enough.


As if the way your hair
       curls at the nape of your neck
               which smells sweet
                        of milk and sleep,

                         isn't enough.


And your cheeks that give softly
under the gentlest weight of my kiss
while you are sleeping,
the softest skin that knows
no world-weary travelers
no sun-baked afternoon of toil
just creamy pillows, pink hill
against the scallop shape of my body

as if all this isn't enough
to keep holding you at this meeting place
in my old bentwood rocker
situation by the bookshelf piled with
candlesticks and your great-grandpa's vintage records
in our favorite room in the house
where the sun spills yellow over the floorboards
and the breeze makes the curtains dance 
your toddling legs spilling over my arm
your eye meeting mine
the corners of your mouth turning up
in the sweetest grin of gratitude and safety.
It's enough for me, my darling.

And so here we are again at 4pm on a Tuesday afternoon,
a quiet moment during which
I am inaccessible to the world
and I am begging you not to fall asleep
but loving the weight of you, heavy and trusting
as I nourish you with only the energy of my body
with my whispered I love yous,
with so much more than what is visible
knowing there will be a last time
knowing you won't always ask for this.