Posted by: Indonesian Children | June 26, 2009

that untitled breastfeeding poem (revised)


Why are there no poems
about this: the infant nursing herself to sleep,
fresh from the bath,
her hair curly with the warm damp of her body
which smells like moss, and is that patient.
It is small, as the moon’s pull
is small; the ocean leans only a little
towards it. It is common
the way a heartbeat is common, or waves:
little doors that open, open, open.

She falls off the breast and rests
her warm breath against it, says — Ah,
but I can’t tell you. The language between us
as a closed lily

Asleep now, nursing
in her sleep: her serious mouth working
like a bow. Yes, this is strong enough
to punch armour.
I put a breath into
the intricate word of her ear.


Supported  by


Breast is the Best ! What could be more natural?

Yudhasmara Foundation

Office ; JL Taman Bendungan Asahan 5 Jakarta Indonesia 10210

phone : 62(021) 70081995 – 5703646

email :,


editor in Chief :


email : 




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Copyright © 2009, Indonesia Breastfeeding Networking  Information Education Network. All rights reserved.

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