Used to be we would catch our mother
In the forest, belly bulging like the moon,
Munching on animal bones.
She would shepherd us back to bed,
Her knees full of dirt, hair like witch’s broom
Bird bones wedged hollow as flutes
Between her teeth.

Don’t blame me, she would lament.
I’m making a whole new human out of nothing
Every time your father visits;
Fetus flesh and viscera and gore
In the sac of my stomach,
I can handle those.
But the bones, oh the bones.

Years later when we saw the deer,
Those mild-eyed grass gnawers
Devouring animal carcasses in winter
To reconstruct majestic vernal antlers;
When we went to school to learn
About calcium, phosphorus, and sodium
We understood

And wondered if we could carve up
And serve father or forest on a platter
For our full-mooned mother’s feeble bones.