The Womb

I am warm
and the light is a muted red,
like the veiny insides
of eyelids,
insides
of bellies.
I want to hide.
To fold these four appendages inside myself.
Back when it was
that simple.
I convulsed
to the beating of a distant heart
and the rumble of indigestion.
I was whole
then, even though I lived
through a tube
and took stutter breathes through stunted gills.
No one could take from me; instead
I took.
I was not open to the overwhelming
Sadness.
My skin was new.