In the first moment of Creation,
in the depths of boiling-over lightninged
seas, the first cell turned and turned
tumbling, feasting on the organic soup.
But very soon, after replicating in a flurry
of transparent kaleidoscopic magicianing,
the divination's wonder passed, and soon
came the cell's hunger, and so it dreamed of teeth.
And so came the suckling child, as
it sups upon the teat: hungry for soothe, milky-sweet;
the mother an inland sea, water brimming with skimming fish.
Soon, in the maelstrom of violent consuming,
a new cell emerged: the mitochondria.
It fused with the early eukaryote,
an act of cellular agreement, a sensuous
tryst into the first arrangement of love-making, like
blind animals searching each other out in the darkness;
and in this symbiotic dance of ecstatic ritual,
the aerobic flurry of breath now, this new cell dreamed of woman.
And so came She, supine on her back, legs spread
as her destructive other teases to fill her, tumbling like
cool water into a deeper warmer pool of meaning.
In a jumble of genes, you find an expression of
deeper potential: something anchored seabed-solid;
present, alive, rooted, elusive -