The Next Crossroads

3. A mother's love goes all the way back to the umbilical cord. Stretching from hip bone ovary to intestines, Feeding our hunger with hers. Is it no wonder she gave me the world? In her care life was bountiful. Robbers and cops, seeking and hiding, buried in her bosom to hear her heart beat perfection. When I would let her coddle me no more I ran from my front door to find another mother waiting. Vegetables sprang up from soil saying I created you and you will nourish yourself of me Again and again and again. Stars shone for me with every step The waves caressed me. The soil was cracked heaven under my toes And if I was cold; If I was ever starving, I need only follow the taught string tied tight Back to her arms. 4. Created in his image My father smiles every time he thinks I look like him. His hands are calloused and strong. They have fashioned cupboards from oak. They have held a rifle squarely To eek blood from pelt To carry home moose and hare Slung over shoulder. I remember w

0. I was born with heart palpatations like the charge of a locamotive chugging through my chest. I needed to scream. I needed to wail. My exit from the womb was adrenaline waiting to rest. When the noise stopped I sat upon a hollow log, listening to silence. I brushed the dust from my pointed shoes. I collected myself. All at once I noticed how one side of my tunic glistened like blood under oxygen, red and shimmering and the other balanced with the light of the sun. I was energy. I was fire. I would not wait for an older thing to chance upon me, to take me from coals and save me from immortal adventures. My sudden rise caused the bells to jingle upon my cap. I smiled at their happy sound. I tripped. I barrelled careens and twists over waterfalls. I journeyed. And fell. 1. I landed with skin slicing jauntily across my cheek. The earth beneath my hands was rough and rock. I felt pain. Upon standing, I saw that the world was a force in metamophosis by virtue of my mere presence. I kicked