MY MOTHER, THE EXOSKELETON
Birth
When I was born,
I shed my mother,
the exoskeleton.
I ground her into gelatin:
nutrition for me, and
building material for
the ancestral walls.
Lessons
The wall-mothers tell
of the cells they died
to build. Our history:
One by one,
generation upon
generation, we
build a hexagon of
gelatinous cells, a
honeycomb hive of mothers’
bodies, until the final cell
reaches the promised land of souls.
Where is it?
I ask
How far?
Ancestor walls do not provide
answers, only building materials.
The Recipe
1 cup of dirt from the ground,
1 cup of water from the sky.
1 cup of jiggling mother goo.
Mix to desired consistency.
Allow ten minutes to set.
A Life’s Work
Nightmares
By day, they speak to my mind;
by night, they speak to my body
(and whisper to my womb.)
My limbs obey orders while I dream
of homes in hexagons,
of souls and ancestors,
of my mother, the exoskeleton, and
of You still to emerge.
The Sixth Wall
Once my mother is depleted,
the wall almost completed
a new voice speaks
from inside.
I panic, unready, as an urge,
a terrible gasping pathetic powerful unavoidable
urge
to
escape
my fate,
seizes me and
I
force
my body through a
gaping hole
in the final wall.
The ancestor jelly contracts,
seizing me,
squeezing me,
pushing me inside out. A new life
bursts through
my being and
now I am exoskeleton.
The Land of Souls
My body: consumed.
My soul: congealed.
The gelatin hive is the promise fulfilled.