She visits me when the lights are out，

    when the sun is loving another part of the world.

    She passes through the net I sleep under  like

    a cloud its holes are easily navigable.

    Her buzzing tells me that she doesn't want my legs  arms  cheeks or chest.

    No.

    She craves² adventure  wanting to travel through

    the dark canal  the spiraling cave where earthquakes are wind.

    Her prize is in sight  the gelatinous mass controlling this machine.

    How beautiful she thinks it is  her needle mouth filling with water.

    Her children will know physics  geometry  will understand

    English  Spanish  perhaps Portuguese³.

    They will be haunted their whole lives by trees  guns and a boom that won't cease.

    She cries before drinking  the fluid is salty-sweet.

    Oh if my mother had done this for me  I would have lived