June 29, 2020

I felt the cell
trauma—go back,
go back—where the
brain floats in cytoplasm,
fledgling, scared—retell,
retell—electric pulse in
the womb existence,
not yet formed but I
always was—before
the birth, before
the language—here’s
my little pinkie finger
from the fall—severed
but living in the time
jar—no decay, forward myth.

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