Eight o'clock by the sink and window
washing dried milk bits from the rubber nipple
watching the backyard
watching the bat house
where bats never nest.
Hot water loosens the milk as I push my finger
up the orange-brown rubber tip
up to overhead light
until clean water spurts out the top like a fountain.
I grab a paper towel and soak up the excess.
Ready to screw on my motherhood.
Rebekah Goode-Peoples lives in Savannah, Georgia, with five cool dudes — husband, five-year-old son, two cats, and one dog — and therefore eagerly anticipates the birth of her daughter in March. She runs a high school writing center and writes lyrics and plays electronic drums for the band Oryx and Crake. This is her first published poem.
More from Rebekah Goode-Peoples