12 Poems Of Joy - II

II

So then i will suck on the silver spoon,
lick the bottom of the bowl,
chew its rim,
gnaw the table too
till i get my teeth to snap like chalk -
like chalk, to break -

and i will gnash enough, and hard enough
to pulverize the last tooth of resistance,
till i come to the alveolar ridge.
Oh, and then, and only then,
will i be fit for suckling,
powerless at the full and generous
breast forever.

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