Estrella House Publishing

I come from the placement

of oldest daughter syndrome.

I am banshee yelling upon entry into the world. Scaly new skin reaching for comfort
in the midst of confusion. The light is too bright for me to open my eyes. I twist my
tiny head back and forth as I continue to cry and yell. Little do I know I won’t have
permission to be this wild ever again. Blood, sweat, and shit is wiped off of me. A\
light breeze blows upon my head. I won’t have a full head of hair until I am three or
four years old. Time has no definition yet; I have no recollection of when my animal
ends for my human to begin. My hands stretch out for the amniotic sac I once called
home. No amount of swaddling will ever replace my first home. I open my eyes that

confirm                                               my point                                       of no return.

I come from the firm socialized politeness

of smooth stones pouring from my mouth.