Breasts

When we first emerged

we were hidden under baggy clothes, 

protected by crossed arms,

hunched shoulders,

downward gazes.

Then exposed, bounced,

swathed in lace,

pushed up by wires

to tempt the touch of strangers.

At first bruised and pummelled,

but then 

ah!

Caressed and kissed

until we were hot and aching.

Soon swollen and sore,

we prayed not to be moved

or touched, for cold compresses.

Swaddled and braced

until one day

something fierce and eager

clamped us

and drew so hard it hurt.

At first we wept

thin yellow gunk,

racked with pain

leaking in empathy 

with each other.

Now at last we understand

the meaning of life

is milk.