Memory is patchwork. The last thing

you recall is sky – a sudden bristling of

blue, a wild wobbling. Missteps prove

costly. You fall through the thick tulle

of algae and pond scum, plummeting

past the hyacinths and lilies, lime green

roots glowing, squiggling in the dark

like fluorescent strings of binary code. 
You plunge through the vial of ink,

panic ballooning, as your legs churn

amniotic darkness, sinking, sinking,

till at long last a demigod grabs your

placenta hair. You break the surface.
Splayed on firm earth your nostrils

spew slime. Air inflates your alveoli

You wheeze back to life. With bleary

eyes you trace the mocha arc on your

left hand, the old clairvoyant woman’s

words ringing loud and true: Strange,

this melding of mounds, this ebony dip,

this meandering pace of your lifeline.