That I was an egg inside my mother inside Lillian That she is an egg inside an egg inside me
What am I missing?
The light that streams from a girl—for the taking No, go back—
See to it—nothing was taken: Cells reconstitute themselves as orbs of rose light
My whole life I was concerned with membranes: A four-year-old professor of membranes Don’t even look at me
I built a faulty moat, the tower puffed relentlessly hot loving steam power course in, as time lights every bower
My uterus pulsing & pushing: the body’s time
cannot be denied: the thrum in my cervix when I imagine you—desire makes us real. The visceral plane
of life with a child. Shit piles up. Your clothes drip with drool This is the love they warned you of—
where you will stand anything for a kiss
You knew going in how thick the bliss & terror of containment: You saw her reach for you
with those wild owlish eyes all seeing scalded knowing unquenchable flow
the river’s elbow where you found her
"Turtle-Owl Woman" artwork by Paula Barkmeier; poem from "Surge," now available for purchase from Tinderbox Editions