Within two weeks, a female fly can live her entire life andafter thirty-six hours of adulthood, a female flyis ready to conceive. She mates once, and storesthe rest of the sperm for future offspring. She lays one hundredeggs at a time, every time she is ready, when she finds somewheredamp and dark. There is room for life in the space of the dead.In a nightmare, a fly lays one hundred eggs where my eggs areand my womb holds larvae shortly after. What is organicand decaying sustains the maggots until it is time to pupate.I bear the babies I do not want in case there will never beones that I do. I feel like a mother when I am invaded,when I rest among the dead and dying. My mother wantsgrandchildren within the next decade, and I am quicklyrunning out of time to produce them, to reproduce myselfinto something small and squirming, screaming, feelingaround for carcasses. I could live my entire life in two weekswithout any fruit and disappoint three generations at once.In the nightmare, my eyes are red and I am winged. I sinkinto manure with ten days left to live. I heave a legacy intosomething’s rotting flesh and taste salt and blood.I hear crying. Yes, mother. I took a breath and lived insidemy own lungs. I no longer need yours.