Green Turtle Comes Ashore

She is the heartbeat of her ancient mothers. Fathoms slide from her shell as she shrugs out of her oceanic space-suit. She strokes laboriously through sand and a murderous gravity, head exploring ways. Beyond the next dune she will excavate a womb alien to her own. A dug-out oven for the suns steady eye. Already gulls cry and swoop. Eyes closed she lays her translucent eggs, her blood singing of brine and loss. A wave less depth awaits where just a few of her kind will take flight.