We fall through the eye of David Bowie the day I have you. You swirl out of me and pull me with your uncut umbilical cord into the dark mote of his eye. I can’t resist it or you. You coo and nuzzle my breasts, rooting for milk, your own eyes, unopened, and I wonder as we travel through a universe of viscera and stars, nurseries for new life. I kiss the top of your still damp head, smell the blood, the fluid, my pain, my fear, and you open your eyes and shine your blackstar gaze on me, swallowing me whole.