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.