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