Black-Nippled Reeds
S
Sheena Blackhall
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In the lily pool, under the waxy flowers,
A baby suckles the black nipples of reeds
The water loves the bones of it.
The slow silt, the rock and lilt of the mud
On the riverbed cushion its fall
A fluid cradle
Its head is as smooth’s an otter
Its breath has floated away
Like swan’s down drifting
Its mother lowered it down
Hoping the pool will keep her secret drowned
The blood between her thighs,
A slippery launchpad.
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