Ride with Me Sweet Baby Mine

by Susan Dunn
Date

Ride with me tonight, sweet baby mine,

Let me feel it one more time

Your body plastered to mine

I’m one of those mothers who never got enough.

I lusted for all that mixing and draping,

Bean bag bodies, bellies, breasts and butts

Everything soft and blending, the utter willingness of it all!

No bony knees, no sharp words, no hard rejections,

And nothing to negotiate.

Unconcerned about losing your precious ego boundaries*,

And confident in your ability to perform,

You courted me without restraint, my tiny lover,

And joyously accommodated, molding yourself to me

Like a piece of dough around a baker’s mold.

You’d just as soon be part of me, and I’d just as soon let you.

I was your first mother, and you were my last baby,

So neither of us held back, oh the gay abandon of it all!

I laid you on my chest, heart to heart,

So yours would learn to beat like mine,

And slept with your rosebud mouth against my ear

So I would learn your secrets,

And we came to know each other well.

My breasts were full, your stomach was empty

We reversed the situation, everyone was happy

Filling what needed filling, emptying what needed emptying

In one harmonious mix of bodies and fluids and desires

And I had nursing-baby-orgasms –it ought to have a name–

That broke wide and low, as nectar is to fruit juice,

As velvet is to corduroy, as honey is to wine,

Why can’t sex be like that?

When you’d had your fill you lay back smiling

With milk running out the side of your mouth

Thanking me shamelessly with languid eyes

For being the perfect mother

Stroking my breast or face with your fingers

As no lover had, or has, or is, or will, or probably even should.

The bliss you gave me,

The bliss you gave me,

Made up for all the rest.

Please come into my dreams tonight

Oh long lost baby of mine

And let me touch you one more time.

Let me touch you one more time.

I’m one of those mothers who never got enough

And you’d been gone from babyhood long before you died.

* …the struggle men wage their entire lives to resist the yearnings for reunion with mothers
and their female surrogates. To yield is to invite dissolution of the sustaining integrated
structures of thought, affect, and defensive organization that form the stable sense of self,
and to risk primordial anxiety."

Narration of Desire, Wrye & Welles

Susan Dunn was blessed with two sons, Neil Marshall, named for his father
and Samuel Chester, named for his grandfather. These boys were born
ten years apart and were as opposite as could be.

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