6. Milk

I came across a short story. It’s called Summer Solstice by Nick Joaquin. The story discusses femininity in such a powerful and whimsical way, it peaks, it burns, it utters the phrase, “My dear boy, you still have your mothers milk in your mouth.” I still can’t think of better words to say to win an argument. ‘Milk’ symbolizes the final word, and how one can wonder and long for the infantile other, especially in the aftermath.

 

 

On the backside of the mirror

I saw your message in the light

It could not be any clearer

And are you alright?

Are you alright?

 

Take your hand off me now

Cuz it’s not all that I knew

Anymore

 

God of rolling barley fields

I could just lay

As the shadows that you cast 

Fell from the sky 

And just stay down 

“Boy you still have your mother’s milk inside your mouth”

 

Just don’t cry

 

Take your hand off me now

Cuz it’s not all that I knew

Anymore 

 

On the backside of the mirror I saw your message in the lights 

 

Boy you still have your mother’s milk inside

 

On the backside of the mirror I saw your message in the lights 

 

On the backside of the mirror I saw your message in the lights 

Boy you still have your mother’s milk inside

 

On the backside of the mirror I saw your message in the lights