Standing army

I drown in memory; amniotic
flood waters, birth, rebirth.

Four call me, Mother. Eddies
swirled you, my grip held.

Several whisper across time,
tidal circumstance; weathered

coast of womb, crumbling
grotto. Snail shell fist

curled, raised ghosts,
painted within caves

where dreams hold
conversations

we might yet have,
immune to the world.