Giant bell shaped corpses hanging heavily
from the trees. Some shriveled and black,
some green and slick. Limbs dip down,
bending beneath the weight.

Your mother is trying to shed
your tiresome weight, leaning low
to drop you down to the ground,
where birds will crack your shells,
pull out your bones and crunch
through the casings.

They take you in and incubate your
Souls, then cast you out. Reborn among
The tall grasses, in cracks of concrete, tramped
down into a deep sleep.

You will lie beneath muck and loam
You will lay dormant, sucking dirt like air.
Until you emerge, fragile, covered in earth’s
after birth, gasping for light.