Diastasis Recti: Eden

She knows she couldn’t control what the dust 
would become. But now that they’re out,

she finds herself earthquakes, 
                                                          floods and blizzards.     The fire-sword 
keeps slipping, reignites the border.

Breathed on, she made herself 
                follicles, 
                bronchi, 
                arteries. 
               The cycle 
that lets blood in, feeds it, 
squeezes shut, lets it go. 
                                But now:

                                press into her     where they were 
                 muscle and flesh and sink 
to your knees.