my birth

[Steve]

my mother's
exhausted wet well womb
had teeth that threatened
to puncture my infant mind shell,
like a fork piercing the bud of a lily,
if i did not vacate.
she never gave birth to me,
it was more like i was spat out
in one pnumonia drenched vaginal cough
of mucous. i fled one night
and as my mother's
head was dreaming, i slid into her ear
and hid behind her eyes.

i will only come out
to live in the belly of a birch
or in a crater on the moon.