Dotty Wassily Kandinsky, #2: Something Old, Something New
Milky Way
The whisper
of my milk
in the night
is the shout
of wintermelt
spraying,
splashing
down a mountain.
Meg’s fine bone-china
jaw compresses,
tiny tongue
tugs my breast.
Sweet and sure.
I feed her.
She fills me.
Her satin foot
dances upside down
on my cheek,
static sparking.
By this night light
I read
magazines
mothers’ journals
child development research
best-sellers.
We travel connected,
swollen lips
to swollen breast,
on our milky way.
Page becomes chapter
night leapfrogs night
month gives way to year.
I see no end.
Then,
she lifts
a two-handled
bone-china cup
to her lips.
My breasts weep.
But Meg,
Meg marches on sturdy feet
climbs on my lap
offers me
chubby-board books
with her pudgy fingers.
“Read!” she says,
and I feed her
on demand.
Chubby-board becomes picture story
easy-reader leads to chapter book
months give way to years.
Now, school papers
quilt Meg’s bed.
Her legs are
three
and a half
miles
long,
end with painted
toenails.
Young breasts
swell.
She pushes aside
hairbrush
and homework,
finds a plastic-covered
library book,
gum wrapper holding our place.
“Read the next chapter?”
I give voice to
the unfolding story.
Meg massages
my day-heavy feet
with oils
and powders.
We drink
one from the other
still.
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8 x 8″; gouache, acrylic, pencil, and paint marker on paper
concentric circles and [implied] squares after Wassily Kandinsky
2025
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Notes About Poem and Painting:
• I wrote “Milky Way” when Meg was about eleven years old, 35-36 years ago. The story continues to unfold; we drink one from the other still.
• Her Satin Foot is the second of my Kandinsky-inspired art journal escapades created while at SisterFest25 just two weeks ago, mid-June.
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