so little rest.
All living things must breathe.
Oocyte. Ootid. Ovum.
Heifer. Cow. The old milk snake
still shedding her skin to nest
through cloudy brille in the leaf
litter of the melaleuca.
The bony oarfish, the shiny
sea monster washed ashore,
her thousand eggs swarming
out of six-foot ovaries. They flood
the waters of the sea. Spoonbill
and loon feed on the belly full
of krill, the severed tail
and multiply on Earth.
From August to May the feral
Muscovies breed on our driveway.
They incubate their clutches
for a month, twenty minutes
a day for each hen to drink, eat,
and shit alone under the sun.
Duck was your first word.
They were everywhere.
Even when the dog flushed them
past our seawall, they returned.
Of course I understand
the pushback. The bedtime stories.
The midnight snacks.
Thirst and pee.
Water and water. Always
the reaving of day by night
by day. When I find you
in my bed at 2 am, I take
my pillow back, yes,
then push my nose under your nose
to breathe in what you breathe out
it is so good.