Thoughts and Prayers

It’s time to feed the hungry girl who’s

Gumming my shoulder like a starved calf.

I situate her helpless body atop propped pillows and

Aim the bottle for her mouth.

Her baby palms crumple together in prayer awkwardly,

Ready to receive.

. . .

“I love you,” I worship her adoringly, 

Wagging the milk, playing airplane in the sky, 

Booping her nose with the nipple.

She strains her neck and her head shimmies 

Uncontrollably, searching for the source.

I hide it behind my back, she’s too distracted to hear. 

. . .

“I love you,” I say again, this time stretching the syllables

Out tall and wide, offering her a most titillating song.

Her cartoon eyes betray me, and she begins to cry.

Louder, louder, sucking her tasteless fingers between wails.

“But baby,” I bounce her, “I love you!”

All her limbs now are ravenous, ungrateful, ungodly. 

. . .

Why can’t she hear me?