A.i.R. | Unedited... Before Birth by Leah Crossley

A.i.R. | Unedited… Before Birth by Leah Crossley

Self-Portrait 2016

UN-EDITED… before Birth…

Your dancing fins and your velvet touch and your sucking mouth. In the intertwine your Birth and I are courting like insects do, inversely – as to a rotting skunk. You inhale, the stinging pungency of thirty-one years carrion-red, acrid – from both lungs. I carry you, your velvet touch, in the moist pink lining, hidden deep inside the folds, muffled and advancing towards the pelvis, furrowing a trench towards glare. A consistent labouring. Nine months. Worn like a water nurse. The tight membrane swaddles a wet-world. You’re a Venetian Princess surrounded by water. You’re a Venetian Princess inside a Byzantine Pool.

I. sown on breath bestowed to your sucking mouth, I – yours. Anchor and stranger, your Jelly,

Child

your sweet and sticky.

I am. Mucused; colour of blood.

You wear me like a hat or a cape.

A prophetic ache in my pelvis rumbles at 3:30am, need for lime chills and clementines. I hope you liked the clementines. I hope you liked the climate… Rumbles lunar curved and rolling… my tummy waves  – Hello!

You are a velvet touch and rattle, sucking lips and sucking hands, fingers and toes.

The earth is changing underfoot, or perhaps it is how I walk upon it…. Changes. Time felt differently; given a different duration; Now; New World Order; you give Longevity. So far, thirty-one years of life swarms inside my body like I am courting Bees. There are some known landmarks, signs and symbols; meanings collide and become nonsense, re-defining their nature… birds without song; feathers without birds; seeds without roses; hair without heads. The word ‘Mother’ is underlined; Mother from scripture; Mother from Nature… and the names of trees and the bitterness of grapefruits. We are courting like-natures. Neither of us asking to cling like Daughters on the female line. We have crosses to bear. There are war-zones between Lovers and Mothers and Daughters… the silence after the war or before it – you can never be too sure. We are at the site of sacred lesions. Born will be the secrets of this World…  ssssh. They are a secret. Yours to keep. Yours to keep or to forget…