Pink Dream
She holds the breast to her chest
as if it were a baby nestling,
as if it could suckle
the ribbed cavity,
latching on
to its own past home.
The nipple stares up at her
like the eye of a truncated
dolphin, her arms waves
it needs to surface, not able to breathe
in the trough
of that separated flesh.
She tries to apologize, but her mouth
cannot move;
it, too, swallowed.
Later–later–
she wonders at the will
of the mammalian.
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Yes, a strange poem I know. I am posting it for With Real Toads, the prompt by Margaret Bender. Margaret’s prompt is called “Simply Beautiful,” and I don’t think the poem fits that, but it was something that came up after looking at Margaret’s beautiful photographs. I modified the picture above–Margaret’s picture is below.
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