string theory
i once saw a fawn remove itself from the ripe olive of its mother’s womb; head, one leg first, griping saccharine flutes of shocked earth, hind legs broken as toothpicks, ensnared in the sharp mesh of afterbirth. you arrive in New York on a Thursday eyes bright as river stones; our fingers, yoked, like the legs of so many fawns, the coiled wire of a first breath, the grim metal sun biting the veins of saplings shut.