My turn

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.