Woman in undergrowth By Jessica Bex
After the loss Moss gropes across her eyes and mouth , breaching her lungs to strip the alveoli back and breed life into the larval heat . The dragonflies will not escape her , she clutches their glass-bottle bodies within her chest ; their clicking rattles her sternum like it is a drum unbound from flesh , and her buckling stomach moves to their rhythm ; her pelvis splinters from the force , as she releases a rupture of toads that shoot off into the stinging nettles by her toes . Before they run into the road to be hit by a passing car , they stare back at marsh-made skin with cheeks puffed in awe of their mother ’ s retted limbs , as her face gapes at the clouds , and thinks to name them stepping stones .