Motherhood

My dreams came to me and said simply

“If you do not weave us,

you’ll have nothing to cushion the pain

when your Pillow Bones are gone.”

Ends of jewel silk trail around their egg bodies

They are starting to murmur among themselves

If they’d made a mistake making

My belly, their hearth

My body, their home

‘…sometimes she is too hot and then too cold…’

‘…sometimes she is too full or loudly empty…’

I am right there, but they are snooty

They are bold, they are fearless

Fussing that they’ll never form

I see Time

She leaves me a box full of ghosts with a silk bow.