Mary Meek and Mild

The infant suckles her breast

much like my baby suckled mine,

biting the nipple, tugging her

blouse with two hands.

I always felt frustrated,

enough already, you

greedy little bastard.

She ignores him and his

insistence. Placid, serene, she

chooses instead to ponder these

things in her heart.

It helps to wear a fucking halo.

Notes: 

ReadWritePoem: Day Six

Many people collect favorite images, whether as memories or posters, sketches or computer files. Pick one such collection of yours, and once you have an image, begin to interrogate it for poems. Ask: Who or what in this picture could speak? What would they say? Why is this image meaningful to me? When I look at it, what am I remembering? How does this image make me feel? Which of my moods is easiest to find in it? Where would I want to display picture? Who do I want to see it?

Collect the answers to your questions as a hoard of words or phrases. Scatter them across a blank sheet of paper, then check for patterns. What rhymes? Where is there alliteration? Is any rhythm apparent? Patterns might suggest a form for the poem.

My images came from a collection of photographs I took this past December at the Cluny Museum in Paris. Almost a dozen statues or paintings of the Madonna nursing the Christ child. And in each she appears as if this is just one more thing she must endure with utter gratitude.