Laura E. Davis


Mother mania.
Pink-life hysteria.

Flip the night’s whim,
a maniacal architect.

Mythology of sand
and sea and tides:

mother mania.
Shouting at ocean

corners. Reality is
unhinged connect-

ion. Reality is
the pelvis. We are

an oblong womb.
Mother mania. Egg

shell fissure, open
yolk sac, Mother

cosmos. Moon scales
warm and fecund.

The mother’s ache
is miles of blood

fruit: world, it breaks
us open & expects

us not to crack.

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