Cheese

Is it a memory of a mother's milk, soured over years, a pacifier, a soft teething ring. 
Warm brie smooth as silk, shavings showered over pizza with beers, an elastic string
From buffalo, goat or cow our babies we allow to feed off the teat of another beast
Yellow or white as snow, down the throat it gos somehow, a sticky treat a gooey feast
We eat it with blue mold, bacteria within its fold, not a second thought given
Some white some gold, aged until it's old, a little taste of constipated maternal heaven