In the hammock of your arms, kept from the friendly 

sting, I am enveloped by your bones as they weaken the 

linchpin That hangs to the undone stitches of my bare blue 

bird. I crawl into you, yearning for your burnt heart’s chirr.

Breathe me in, Ma, to that familiar agonal rhythm;

Bury me between your ribs - let it be my resting prism.

My name echoes, carved from the aching trunk of your spine.

Watch as I spin to the crackle of your fire, marking you as mine.

Swallow me up, Ma, for in your crucible I am mellow.

Divorcing from a pyre of my past self, I sear and harrow 

At your fibres, your carcass blisters: miserly and meagre. 

Yet I delight in your bloody dam, snug beneath your beating figure.

Birth me again, Ma. Won’t you learn my wail?

With a cleaver I wedge you open, seizing your white sail.

Lost in your hollow belly, in search of my new cry,

I am once again warm, and your pulsing cadence is my lullaby.