shot to earth like absinthe, hot
burning down from that simmering pall of sun
and through a coiled throat of sharpened stars
into the rugged soil of her spinning maw.
mother, i sugared myself of fractals, raw
rotting, sweetly, for you, inside, i--
wore bonds like bangles to distract
from my withering, buttered claws
and the flares refracting my wretched hands.
but all this burning ache and sacrifice
for my own earth did not suffice;
she spat me out smaller than before
from a thousand years inside her molten core,
and back into the great basking pyre
i watched her fade away beneath that fire.