Coming up from the creek 
  hacking at the bushes 
       with a homemade sword, 

he will step 
       on the nail, in the shit,
run through poison ivy,

get tick bit,
       bee stung 
lost — 

his bones are growing.

(Little belly-full
       he butted like a calf
       but wouldn’t nurse

nipples bled where he chewed
       milk sprayed his face.
Suck, darling boy
       milk gives sleep.)

“Let me pump it, Mama!”
       Sprays us both
          with twenty cents worth.

Dirty clothes
       go under
          the bed.

Who left the pasture gate open?
       He has each transparent milk tooth
          now but one.