Narrow Valentine (for my mother on her birthday)

Maybe evolution is the endless
work of lifting up the broken
body of our mother from the tomb
of time and nature indisputably
a resurrection though at first
we don’t see how she’s coming
together out of us the blinding
series of fabrications we nail
together into temporary dwellings
for the truth is earth is dying
and our one escape stretches out
across a bone-strewn isthmus thin
as the narrow thread of love
we crept in on