She was born in the crease
of the sky and the ocean,
when the only question was
whether to fly with the birds
or swim with the sea
whether to yawn light across mountains
or set into the blanket of night
when time was about as present as the
air:
ever present
but unnoticed

but actually child,
that was a lie.
she was born
into rubber gloves
in a little white cube
with patient air molecules

sitting sterile on her face
and her life chosen
her name written
her home was a nice clean box 
when the clock read exactly 10:00 pm
not a minute more
not a minute less