An Incomplete Alphabet, by Melissa Reeser Poulin

Baby Nursing, Mexico City, by Tina Modotti (b. USA), 1926.

An Incomplete Alphabet

W-E-
A for ache, an acre, a field of oats


N for new words in your mouth, N for now, for noise: grain in a digital 
world, the random optical texture of a photograph, over-
enlarged, exposed 


a grainy image: round of cheek to round of breast
a curtain of sleeve, blouse: the round of 
earth from space is the round of the baby’s 
earring, round of her ear


Exposed on park bench, concealed under trees to 
enclose you, me:
W-E: light passing between (For 
angle, for ache) above the breast, the heart: over-enlarged in
nursing room art: Dar pecho, un regalo que dura toda una vida


a pattern just like the original light source 
as with seed, Modotti scattered sun onto film 


Not giving, this morning: I hear your chair legs 
winnow the floor, reaching for spooned oats in your father’s hand 
W-E- (for grain, for give


forgive me) & you reach 
for grain instead, for ache 
You cry my name


Pure your gentle name, pure your fragile life
Neruda wrote of Modotti when she died
& gave her a garland of earthly things
to soften her exile: a rosary of bees, shadows, fire 


Little seed, pepita, granar--we lift the leaves in your flip-flap book
“Why do flowers die?”
Because they are no longer needed


In the photograph, the baby’s mouth
blossoms over the mother’s breast


round as earth from far away

Melissa Reeser Poulin

This poem was written as part of the 20 Poem Challenge.

Melissa Reeser Poulin is a poet and writer in the Pacific Northwest. Her poems and essays appear in a variety of publications and can be viewed at melissareeserpoulin.com.