Ode to a Breast Pump

A Halloween Offering of Bad Poetry to Purge My Demons

Oh Medela Pump-in-Style, how I hate to love thee.
Thy motor’s whine is my ever constant melody.
Thy suction leaves me sore and humorless;
My counter’s cluttered with thy apparatus.
Oh, the time I while like a dairy cow,
Whilst my toddler cries, “Mommy, please come now!”
But my lazy babies do not nurse,
And so, like that bad penny curse,
Again you haunt these many days
And horrify in all thy many ways.
But fie, the milk my baby needs,
The gift of thy ungentle deeds.
So again we’ll meet in an another hour or two,
And thou shalt do that hateful, needful thing you do.