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.