That I Was an Egg Inside My Mother

turtle-owl_woman_-1

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

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