And you think I can’t tell the difference
between a Mother and a child
so you pop out another baby to show me
you’re a teapot still brewing brewing
And you think I can’t tell
that you must have more water,
you must have more water
despite the rains that fall, you are still no sea
catching the drops with an open mouth
My feet sink into your muddy welcomes,
you’re shallow yet to swim
And you think I can’t tell sushi from a steak
one is raw, young fish, quite raw
And you think that you’re a mother
with your belly so round
breaking water, breaking ground
a shallow pool at your feet
brewing, brewing teapot wading upstream
pouring out onto the dirt
that you call a mountain
