Summer blows in blue light over her spine like an exhale
shuffling the bones while the fetus shuts in a fist.
Her skeleton slides free, a swimmer from the sea,
leaving the babe and her mate whose brow meets her hollow one.
Onto the lawn, she flits. Pillared fingers
weave lilies through ribs which once held lungs.
A bloom raps one bright digit which she knits to her spine
where the babe nested.
Clack, sing small finger bones while femurs ring
as she leaps without weight of flesh.
Her woven gray thoughts lay on the pillow above. Flying without fear,
her crooked left foot kicks trees.
But even with her great height the empty skull cannot see
the blue moon which so gently pressed it free.