I am Linda
Daughter of Kay
Born of Frida
Daughter of Kayla
Whose mother is Channa
Birthed by Freja
Born of Zisia
Whose mother is Ester
Birthday unknown.

The egg that became
you was in your
Ma ma
When she was in her
Ma ma

Stories that live in Grandma’s eggs
They need a telling,

A mermaid tale swats
Calm surface of deep seas.

Look, up!

A flock of swans heading north to the Snow Queen.
White bison and lynx, fox and pink-eye rabbits follow.
Tracks of blood in rose coloured crystal water.

Giving birth in the widening gyre.
Spinning new tails.
Tales of flame.

Safe lairs of white-haired
Web-weavers Caress the eggs
The unborn-unborns.

There is a crack between things
Stitching one egg to the other

Where will my crone
feet will lead me?

Will I panic and face-lift
hiding the age-trail
Losing my way in the forest of Hag?

Or will I become?
White hair filling youth-rooms,
Clear eyes that tell old bone stories?

May I become root-soil
And mingle-dance with bacteria
And writhe worm rhythms
That feeds toad who
Full of crickets and fireflies
Open Sesames wet
moonlight where
Monarchs reach deep
into flower throats

And blackbirds sing
in the dead of night.