Brea$t Feeding Poem by Robert Rorabeck

She looks dynamite.
She feeds her baby apple-sauce-
He wants teat-
There isn’t any worms;
It is in the middle of the summer solstice:
She has an athletic figure,
But she isn’t getting any jobs.
Romeo loves Juliet,
But their love bombs:
French-kissing caught them too many
Germs a good week before midterms.

The apothecary carries hemlock,
He doesn’t have any qualms;
The lady is in the lake. She looks
Beautiful raising both her arms.
The knight goes cantering over the
Drawbridge-
The drawbridge is in a figure eight,
A skating rink where the priests
Are punting psalms.
The hermaphrodite’s displayed in the
Tank, he/she catching cold and
Qualms,
But we go down to the sea to watch
The turtles hatching, little blackish daubs;
And the albatross amongst the seagulls’ glut,
Brings us hope of good luck,
So we kiss, and cross the feeding mother,
The infant, ruddy cheeked in the sauce,
Seems to understand hunger's shrieking song;

But it still wants teat,
And now it wont be long-
The woman has an agent
And they are negotiating over lunch.
Romeo and Juliet sleeping in the grassy
Foreplay without a hint of hunch,
The knight galloping to the clink,
To save his misinformed brothers from
The green ax’s knick.
The sea-grass’ lady raising arms,
The infinite teenagers tracing her gifted charms,
The fine young priests selling pop-corn and
Buttercups get paid in alms.
The albatross resting on the marble cross
Seems to stop and reason over the both of us.
The hermaphrodite, he/she is left to be,
And so we watch he/she swimming with the
Fortunate young amphibians deeper out to sea.