heaved into being
like drumstick
like wing
not run not flown

Toothed to a speck
indentured to a thought

: I am :

placenta and rot
I am séance
and rattling chair
I am convulsion
red joy and worry
colon and throat

I am all
that passes through me
whether it be love
or the rumor
that scratched my name
on an eggshell.

Image: Robert Zunikoff on Unsplash

9 thoughts on “Nascence

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