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

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