Culture

Poetry Corner: My Baby Cries

By Richard Wallace

My Baby Cries

Like scudding clouds,

precursors,

my bedroom ceiling

stares at me.

Hungry,

my baby cries.

*****

My husband

has gone to work.

My bedroom ceiling

stares at me.

Hungry,

my baby cries.

*****

My girlfriend

will soon be here.

Coffee and chatter,

wash my face,

hungry still

my baby cries.

*****

I nurse my baby

In the kitchen,

my blouse hangs

on my chair.

My friend

does not approve.

*****

I look at my emptied

flaccid breasts.

My baby sleeps

between them.

My friend says that

I am very brave.

Breastfeeding mother and baby

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