At Eight Pounds You Burst Out

by Kirsten Andersen
Illustration by Jordin Isip

At Eight Pounds You Burst Out

Kirsten Andersen
19 Snaps

At eight pounds you burst out
with a trumpet mouth,

rash splashed
across your face, knuckled fists

like walnuts, banging on a door.
Rich yeasts in your neck,

thrush fuzz on your tongue,
fontanel a pulse of American blood.

Your pink face is already furious,
a drill bit bearing down

on the light and the sound.
You are a limb-driven maniac.

They put you in my arms.
I sing a little church song I’d like to pass along.

More Reads

Demagogue Money

Lillian-Yvonne Bertram


Nava EtShalom

Requiem w/ Eye Roll

Jay Hopler