bit of a pome

You opened like a red rose
Flower, my daughter, in the
Womb of your mother, where love,
Or a spirit like it, feeds
You in there, little monster,
Sea monster, hammerhead shark,
Butting my hand through the wall,
keeping your mother awake
At night, laughing and rubbing
Her belly like a seeress,
And you are her scrying ball.
Our blazing stone in the dark.