Incubator

You lie there like a product of the sea,
rocked in your covered vessel
to dream a journey already mapped.

Fragile urchin, with cowrie ears
and a paua shell glow,
otherworldly beautiful.

I smell chlorine and alcohol and sweat,
hear the hum and suck of tides,
as my body spills gold for you.

Lighthouses flash and sirens call out,
hand-in-hand through the porthole we knot,
I have no option but to be your anchor.

Silent, but with a sea of prayers on my tongue.
Mother, but not yet called,
I wait for you, knowing you are already born.