Warning: this piece contains strong language
A sliver of glass
I leapt
from my Father’s
eye reflecting
a Mother that
didn’t exist.
Cigarette butts rose
to Heaven, thunder
formed my torso.
Dust blew through an
umbilicus and
collected to
form fingers
and lips.
Here is my birth:
In the ghettos of
Charleston my
Daddy beat off
and I coagulated
on the ceiling.
Now bound in
cords of placenta
endorphin seeps
through
my veins
and I breath.
Rob Goldstein – 1986-2019
