Birth Certificate

It doesn’t state
whether my head was crimped
like a hamburger bun
the last in the bag
or flat like an overripe tomato
sagged on a sandwich plate

It doesn’t state
whether my fingers clacked
like crabclaws sunk
in a boil, caked with Old Bay
or whether my first breath
roared in a conch shell

Nor does it state
whether my rubber legs
were tapped from a tree
or simply caulked — silicone
forced from a tube

It doesn’t state
whether I wailed or cooed
howled yowled or stank
or whether I flailed
against the first light


At the husk end of the day
I wonder if some secrets
some untidy things were
slammed back into the womb
and locked

Image: Alex Hockett on Unsplash

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.