As I grew my brain inside my mother
who became the person of my other
self unrecognized, as lipstick drawn on me
to show the part that didn't come to be
allowed as what it was—myself—j-just one
and nothing more, but nothing less than sun
shining that fact of being—stretched out womb
on sand that's hot and cool and wet and home
to crabs scurry-hide, my spider room,
my seeing eyes and ducking tomb of One
Just me, and nothing more than deity rises
two my feet, as dirt unfurled in vices
gripped by fetus curls, and screams unlined
by lips defined in smile’s smothering—Mine!