anx

Her smile broke yellow
like the film over egg yolk
sucking on it between swollen lips
kneading in her back teeth
like a hymn
The whites lie in a glass bowl
smelling of spoiled meat
beaten against firm liquid curves
foaming white
like pacific salt caps
It stiffens against her cream complexion
and dries
like the throat of Africa
we were ripe fetuses on the half-shell
that eluded the embryo
uncurling our webbed fingers
to break our fall
when our mothers clutched their crosses
and dropped us.