baby bird
Saga Strandén
had a dream I was
pregnant again
I looked down and there
you were
sunshine in July
the world turned
inside out
trees became seaweed
then lake became sky
now
your mother sits
cries
wedged between my heart
and my rib cage
she has nowhere else to go
moths to flames
drawn to undoing
I refuse to be yours
will not watch you
unravel
sticky fingers
touching velvet skies
you never existed
in July