for my lining
crimson and loamy
nudging the womb to stretch
into the morning of the beginning
bladder ballooned
yet battened down and out
lungs cleaved
two great gasping gunnies
flung over your uterine shoulder
symphony of chaos
playing late for the maternal organ waltz
capped off by a second,
ne third encore
micro chimerism
all this to say
16 (14,11) years later
—Rocking pleasantly along
working the sway (clay) of the car
into a cradle
even a robber barron
craves
one last tuck
goodnight, my baby bubba—
I am purposefully spelunking
Black Sabbath
plumbing the depths of Ozzys
steel town gestation
on the recommendation
of my own
disillusioned boy-man of a musician
unbothered with the knowing
that he still
with lotus severed
can shift my organs
—-neurons long dark
—-sparking to life
—-in this mom brain