Night Feeding
As the baby nursed,
fingers opened like petals bloomed,
coaxing the breast
as if a huge bee–the breast,
being all the baby knew while nursed,
her mother in flushed bloom.
If flesh were cloth, they would be loomed
as a single weave, the breast,
the fingers, the baby, mother, nursed,
the shuttle sighing, nursed back, forth,
the pattern resting its bloom
against night’s breast.
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Here’s a tritina of sorts (like half a sestina) for Margaret Bednar’s Play It Again Sam on With Real Toads to return to a selected archived prompt. I’ve used Kerry O’Connor’s prompt to write a flowery poem in an unflowery or uncliched way–this is rather flowery and rather a cliche, I’m afraid–but in writing it, I was also thinking of Hedgewitch’s cascade prompt–a poem with repeating lines. Repeating lines were too much for me, but this repeats words!
Essentially, I am saying that I cheated on both prompts, but since I use two–perhaps it adds up to one submission. (The drawing like the poem is mine; I’m not much good at hands; still, all rights reserved.)
ManicDDaily 
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