I Tell My Mother I Don't Think Trying to Get Pregnant During a Pandemic is a Good Idea

Everyone assumes we know how to love. Where did
you first learn (or did you ever)? In this blooming

a message: the bird which heals itself
is bandaged by an unseen hand. I asked

the earth to distill into one bone, into
the nadir of a mountain. I found buried there

my fear transformed into a jackrabbit
bounding away from me, an upside-down

heart moving across the Ouija board of this valley
reminding me that time is a floating island,

a menagerie of stars and crystals growing from children’s
play lab kits and nautilus lisps—I asked: child

or no child—and the apple gave me the gift
of four seeds, perfect wisdom if not

wooden—what is the difference between
earth and terra? The landscape unfolds, unspools

like a soft plume. The chrysalis is a crossroads.
A fat grub born every minute. The air fat

with feathers in this ceremony of eternal candles.
La luna changes her mind often—child or no child

—blooming a new face, unraveled ligature
unbound and unbothered.