Four a M Feeding

i light no lamp i go by ache and touch the song of your hunger guides me to your humid nest my hands curl under your arms and lift it's instinct this gift i give you at night i know you differently smell you when i can't see you buttons to unfasten half asleep it's hard to work my fingers and juggle you but soon i fold you in the crook of my arm these pouches of stone four hours without you look what it does you seek me blindly rooting for the source i croon it is there i melt and gush you choke break cough too much too fast gurgling to your belly milk splatters your face and fuzzy scalp milk sweet and warm such plenty to grow on i nuzzle your head and rock the chair slip my hand under your gown to fondle your miniature toes little peach little plum i cannot imagine you grown