The world is our oyster; thinking through the Baludarri

May 19

Like bottom dwellers,

Memories flow like rivers.

Families connect

And seeds disperse.

I am told that it is through the microscope

That her first stage of life

Is dance.

I am told that she moves through the water column and is mobile.

I am told that she flutters.

In her early stages

She is restless

She does not settle

But rises with the tide

It is later that I see her heartbeat

It is later that I cut her

Cut her out and

Remove her shell

Her flesh is soft and salty

She bubbles

And dies

The world is our oyster.


Posted by on May 19, 2019 in Uncategorized

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