My heart beats for 25 hours a day.
That extra hour is for being born before my time.
So instead of those heartbeats echoing in an ultrasound
They were in intensive care.
Doctors said if his heart stops beating, he will pass on.
But there will be no memories inside that crowned head
There would be nothing but a body to bury
And a lot of what could have beens.
It would be a shame that he would be covered in soil
No longer able to soil himself
Before he could say his own name.
My fingers grasped weakly at the air.
My mouth gasped for air
I could not close either to take hold
My eyes blurred by the waters of an IV.
Encased in a body too weak to make fluid.
That hour was probably best spent in a womb.
Count off the hours to make months.
But the world probably needed me now.
I needed to be in the world even more.
My first grin was in this isolation chamber.
I’m sure my first thought was it is good to be alive.
It is better to be in the world wrinkled
Because I will leave the world the same way