Uterus is a feminine word

[Newton Hills State Park, me sitting on a fence in the middle of a large grassy knoll]

There’s a burning where the end of my neck meets the beginning of my shoulder. My focus is near-sighted. I wish to discover a large meadow to tear through. I want to find the exact middle to spin ‘round with arms raised, screaming I AM A WOMAN. I HAVE A UTERUS. Then laugh, as if I don’t. There is something amazing about these lights, how they swirl together as if tossed into a painter’s spigot. The sky is dark yet I still see light.