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.
