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Poetry | March 2013

Pacifier Ode

By Sandra L. Faulkner

next to the shiny
cans priced with promise
for smart growth,
superpowered limbs,
beside the temperature
sensitive spoons, sippy cups
bibs with cartoon faces–
things you never thought to need–

presides the paci, dummy, baby
comforter, all soother
silicone or rubber nub,
earlier a knot of fabric
soaked with the good stuff,
the thing you said no
to before you knew
the bite of attachment parenting

before the cry that broke
your single will, before
the warmth of plastic, sucking
like a fetus, like a magician
that bends objects beyond
what’s possible
to this two-dimension time and space,
unnatural body that’s better
than a fleshy nipple

2 replies on “Pacifier Ode”

Sheila Squillantesays:
March 5, 2013 at 5:23 am

So wonderful, Sandra!

Reply
elainesays:
April 8, 2013 at 1:27 pm

Sandra, I really like the flow of the poem, no periods, and the subtle rhyme.
I see the connection to my poem–something you thought you would not do when you were a mother. Elaine

Reply

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