Cesarean

 

​

It starts,
as all things do:
     with blood.

​

Twice-born child
of the stick,
of the mud,
of the fur pelt
spread out over
the moss, the fern;

​

I clawed free
from the thigh,
shot from the head,
was swallowed
by the deer
and spit back
up again–
       Venison, baby,
       Kaleva, baby,
       Cougar, baby,

​

–Michigan baby
pulled up
out of a pothole.
The rush of teeth in tire
and lips on dicks

and with it,

       I came.