In the Bosom of a
dark Cocoa tree
a baby's hands
flay the air.
His little siren wails
and his fleshy cheeks tremble.
Buffed to a pudding shine
slender brown chocolate arms
rock the little storm to sleep,
but to no avail.
In pure frustration
mixed with a sigh
she flips up her T-shirt
pulls her chest down
softly
slowly.
A warm brown
full cocoon of milk.
Baby lips meet the fleshy bark
and gurgling he pulls
milk from the
dark knot on the
cocoa trees trunk.
Softly
slowly
the chocolate pillow
drips white dew for
baby food and baby sleep.
It soon falls out of his mouth
regains its fullness,
shape set,
the mahogany luster.
Her lap rocks back and forth
lifting the little eyelids down.
The Cocoa tree gazes at the
beads of water on her
baby's skin.
Her gentle fronds
mop the sweat.
Her low voice drones
shoopa shoopa shoopa shoopa shoopa
softly
slowly
the language of trees
to their fruit.
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