homunculus

i don’t remember being amniotic. i don’t
remember what i tell myself to forget. or
the second time, spin a cocoon so i can
bubble and fizz and atomize.
and purify.
again.

flip the mirror to  witness
the curve of her       spine
her fingernails        shine
her eyes are    backwards.

 babygirl you are my third arm but that’s ok because you’re
practice. anthea campden damson i get to call you
junior.
your sisters sparkle in our eyes and you are made of me
so they don’t have to be
    sliced out of me and the earth. 
one arm a scalpel, one leg a plough.

it hurts but i need a good look at you, you need 
assembled just once
so the vapour knows it was you,
           knows what it tastes like,
           knows what we’re working with. 

           creatures of fear fear themselves most of all and
           that’s all you can see anyways i’m sorry
           i’m still afraid of the dark.

but i am mostly water and i get to bring you home, 
bubble and fizz back into zits and ligaments
knitting flesh together in a rocker by the fire
show me what we believe so i can show me the way out up through 

leaping on legs of sweet steel