it’s like I was born black and blue.

maybe it was my growing heart,

pounding thin skin, leaving a flushed chest,

blushing fingers and toes squirming in the air to fight unwelcome hands.

my first breath a shriek to let the world know I fear it,

my exhale a plea to return to the safety of the womb.

but maybe it was the LED lights, the brittle paper gown, the stench of isopropyl alcohol.

a sterile home, all made careful.

perfect protection produced the weak

with needles that numbed the ache to be strong.

where everything was too harsh to live, maybe even too harsh to attempt.

instead, birth me in the river styx,

cool my bruises like a kiss.

my first breath a warning,

my exhale a scream; you should fear me.