Who gritted hus teeth and bore
The pain of an insect bite
As his preceptor slept on his bite
In vain do they praise him
For something
A mother does
Several times a day
And ask her how a night passes
With the baby's teeth and mouth
Glued to the softest, most delicate
Part of her body
Its nails curled around it protectively
Each ready to bite and cut and lash
As the mother
Supine
Tries this position and that
A back curved
An arm pressed
Hair pulled
Legs bent and squashed
All so that
The baby doesn't wake
And if she is lucky
This happens
Only once a night
For two years
Until another baby
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