Wet NurseThe hardest part is learningWet Nurse by greystarlight
It’s no one else’s tragedy.
A bruise on my breast I have endured,
Nipples cracked open as a bloody rose,
Suckling year upon year greedy mouths not my own.
My own. No, not my blood in their veins,
Yet a part of me still
This, this is my body.
This I give to you so that you may have
Will you tell me I was wrong to sell
The fruit of my ancient flow
Stemmed from no man?
Will you tell me,
When this small corner, dimly lit room,
Is the only domain left to call mine?
Quiet, quiet now babe.
They say the measure of my stuff shall be your dreams,
And empty or full are my only names.
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