Like a ball rolling air
full of ripe openings
and me running fast
No pain. Just a tin-startled
shock from a path interrupted
and a boy coming forward.
I was fine not feeling a thing.
Just a warm thickening,
as if an egg with the yolk
running red had been cracked.
It was the sauce of me coming out—
metallic lava through
the fork spread of my hands
pulled on and on
by a boy’s sticky screams.