In this order

A tail, a torso, a tiny face.

A longing, a journey, a deep belief.

A spawning, a fissioning, a bit of tissue

anchored to a psyche,

stitched to a wish.

Watery. Irony. Memory. My

mother, my face, and then

the last thing

she’d ever see, and then

the last words

I’d hear her say: You’re

killing me.