wash my hair in the sink

i will not die exhausted

photo by Toni Frissell

some women have a milk fed femininity.

a milk fed softness.

a flowing, white life of rest and ease pumped into their mouths from birth.

a milk i’ve never tasted.

a femininity often poured into the dirt in protest, as i watch, thirsty.

you spit milk out of your mouth, and i pray to catch just a drop on my face.