A Mother Earth ETC
In the whisper of a moonlight stream I heard her sigh or so I thought,
in the rustle of a mottled deer in oak pine forests I heard her weep or thought I did,
or maybe laugh when flitting brightly over jagged rocks.
Upon the silver tides a figure fitting her description swam or maybe drowned or even vanished in the neon haze.
birth mother, bosom to an infant chain,
whose layered womb pulses to infinity,
whose foetal spark aches
for her many sibling forms to coalesce or come to term
Shortlisted second place in monthly Creative Writing Ink contest December 2018