Ode To The Producer

Righty, you are the most mighty.

 

While lefty sat on her ass,

you showed up with sass

and you refused to take your job lightly.

At first it–and you!–were just hard

I thought we wouldn’t get far

but you pushed through and really told hold.

 

When nurses hooked you up to a tube

I figured we both were screwed

as you eeked out drops of that gold.

 

Then the next thing I knew

the liquid did spew

a veritable foundation had somehow been unlocked.

 

Puddles on the floor

yet still you made more

and I distinctly recall being shocked.

 

There were some painful cracks

and a lot of hot/cold packs

then layers and layers of ointment.

 

Never mind that now you’ll sag

like a damp, full trash bag

for feeding my child was most important.

 

Now my reader will find

that it wasn’t in their mind

the topic of this poem they guessed it.

 

I’m writing in jest

about my rightmost breast

and my gratitude, I just expressed it.

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