You seed yourself like grasses in a field but also between the ochre stones of an ancient street. You bring on darkness and sunrise.
Amy brings in an egg from the coop, it’s warm, slightly speckled, dotted with dimples. She shows me how to candle an egg, takes
Surf’s edge, the shallow trough I dig for her to lie in, mound high with wet, heavy sand. Több, she says, több, for me
Come in now, my mother gestures wildly from shore. I almost hear the tinge of fear in her voice. I have ventured out again