The Role of a Mother
Mother is a Breakfast
After the moon fades away
It is Mama's coyly shouts
That awaken sleeping souls.
Her kitchen utensils,
Washed and awaiting service,
She warms the water,
And gives me the bathe.
A washerwoman who toils from dawn---
To dusk.
Seeking to fend for the family
That needs a piecemeal
Sweet balls of sweat
Run down her skin
Tiny rivulets of river
Filled with passion.
She is sucked-
She is sucked-dry
And milked out of breast
Till the breasts lie flabby.
Debeautifying her
Yet she favors life above appearance.
Mama's breast feeds me,
It builds me,
It trains me,
But the sun's rays strengthen her.
She gives me the breast
To play and feed
Till I want no more.
Though it is flabby, she asks, if I am satisfied.

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