WORDS: RACHEL EVA LIM
IMAGE: WILL RUSSACK
this is like the time you were bottom up
throat-sunk on the river wye, dirt cheeks
and a droll clacking of teeth on the
cusp of winter. mama is here,
mama call says breathe
with your eyes shut arms open
in a dandelion embrace. mama slicks
her shins and drops anchor,
washes your hair, sings foreign
hymns to the morning sun.
you are dirt lodged in throat
spittle and too shy to scream.
this mouth, she says, is a gift from the gods.
mama will take her place
in the heavens
and you will dance
a foaming spectacle for the ducks
making their way downstream.