The Buddha said, or Freud.

by Kim Triedman

And life suckles
at the tit of something else. Or else
will, if it is quiet, or
did, when it was young. Something so
huge as to feel

intimate, like oceans—
the water, the salt; even
the sands giving away
like fact
beneath your feet.
There was nothing to say
back then; only the splutter

of milk. I dream
about touch.


*Kim's homepage: http://www.kimtriedman.net/