Breast and Telephone

Everything is milk white
when I feel it poke against
the tender place. I do something
and the world comes in
through a hole in the field
sweet and rich.

When everything buzzes
with beeps and sirens
and the steam collects on the glass,
the sound breaks through
a hole in the field.

I pick it up and it is you,
sweet and rich
the code
of your intention
rushes into my mind
like milk.