The river of life runs through me
And comes out every month
I am female
It chose me
And so I am closer to the door of life and death.
Every month a tiny egg is loosed
Promise of impossibly
Great love
A tiny body
I might hold
Not unlike my own
If only I could feel
An ounce of this love
For strangers
Or for those
Who have done me wrong
There might be a chance
To heal
This Old Mother
Choking on plastic.
Whose branches creak
Amphibians leap
Leaves lace
In twos and fours
Stars
Whisper
Oh, forgive us, Old Mother.