in the eruption and sick quickening
with only sweat and fluid between
we made fingernails, eyelashes.
a small collection of bones.
the easy flesh and un-kept
DNA, parcel by parcel delivered.
the rain came a tendril
or two against my cheek
the air smelled like birth gut.
this baby rolled and punched,
thunder rolled in announcement.
in the wild,
things do happen like this.
too amazing to be believed
for we have forsaken our own
bodies and land-
we own by birthright.
here, put your mouth on this
swollen river, your hand against the world.
someone is speaking to us