This is a quick piece I wrote last night during my Sunday night writing group. It has not been edited and it is not finished, but as it is Spring Equinox today I figured I would share it anyway. But enough of these apologies. Here.
---
Her legs
grow up from underground, her spine is the equator;
Hot and electric,
each
vertebrae stacking
and
un-stacking as she spreads herself across the globe.
Her brain
stem the core of the world.
The tectonic
plates of her shoulders press together
when she’s
worried or upset;
relaxing
into deep waters when she sleeps.
Each limb is
an ecosystem
And she has
many;
More than
you can count
Each arm
emergent and bustling with busy lives
of bees and
inchworms, katydids and whales
half of
which are dying out
as she
watches, giving all of herself but losing it all the same.
It’s a bit
morbid, to think of her there- buried in the ground
sprouting
trees from acorns fallen into animal carcasses.
But she is
not alone. She has the world to care for.
And as a
mother, there is nothing else but your offspring,
to offer. Your womb’s handiwork, your baby blues
blinking at the Sun,
gazing
upwards from the oceans--
