Ellie J. Anderson

Earth Born

Before I was born, I knew
the curve of her hip, white bone
against skin the same shape
as the white cap that pulls me
under,
scrapes my breasts against coral,
sends sand moving past.
 
I am drowning.
 
In the distance, a mountain
curves to sky,
straining for breath,
a frozen gray wave of earth.
 
We are born head-first
coming out of stone
and we stay fastened to
the stones of our bodies,
the bones arranged to protect
our eyes, brains, hearts,
to keep us moving through the landscape
as if we were not attached
to the earth,
would not fall to the spaces
between stones,
our souls suspended
in the air between
our fingers when we pray.

Ellie J. Anderson has published poems in the San Pedro River Review, Glimpse, Deep Wild,     ThirdWednesday, Rupture, Stick Figure, Evening Street, Comstock Review, the BryantLiteraryReview, and others. To see more of her work, please visit: https://www.elliejanderson.com Also, join her on Facebook at Ellie J. Anderson’s Literature