May 29, 2023
LUNA: Hear me: I ripped a vine from the wall of the hill to fashion your spine; I picked feathered champignons from the mud to serve as your red lungs; I gathered twigs of larch and yew for the many twisting paths of your veins and arteries. Your eyes were acorns, your tongue a strip of moss, your throat a circle of bone worn hollow. Into the baby's breath of your hair I wove a strand of hers, but still: there is more of me in you than there is Anna Limon, for blood presides over every birth, even yours. I cut my wrist and bled into your mouth and watched you writhe and form and grasp and finally, finally, breathe.
-Mabel Episode 28, Matryoshka
