Mothership

If flesh is grass,
then we are glass –
grown curved into the crux
of love, washed smooth
by the spine of time. We are
where our image met -
my face, yours,
f r a g m e n t e d by pores
of light and the shells
that collected in our eyepits, our
outstretched palms. Born
of the sea, and whitewashed ceilings
that bore over you, punctured
with eyes like
stars: we have
a bond that stretches beyond
even death -

when the water will seal
over your mouth, and my breath
will make mosaics
against the sky.

* * *

Ever since I heard this song by the Screaming Females, I wanted to write something called 'Mothership'.And I finally managed it!
This was started in creative-writing club. In pairs, we were given a picture and were told to write something inspired by it. Phoeb and I were given a picture of a weird pottery and shell mosaic-thing, and this is what it inspired. Surreal musings on motherhood. Hmm...