Mother

Forceful, I’d say,

where you’d say mild or soft.

Molded, soldered, bulleted, spent.

Staked eight legs

on four strong stalks,

with hair, brains, eyes, energy.

Potential. Useful, I’d say,

and don’t underestimate

my body’s camera,

crucible, kiln,

its humid bellows,

light shutters,

capable ovens,

photosynthesis.

I was entered and exited,

I exuded and extruded,

the earth moved through me,

film, magma, flesh.

Genius, I’d call my dirt petticoats,

and beautifully rent,

stamen and husk,

petal and root.