Guy Cramer

The labor and delivery nurse handed him to his mother after cautiously swaddling him, as if he’d break. Truth is, he would’ve. Blue veins trellised over his eggshell skin covering his hollowed out torso. His mother took his vase shaped body in her arms, for the first time in her life terrified. Every day she poured as much cosmic love inside him, insulation from a world that would soon break him. She wrote on the back of all birthday announcements to not send gifts that could shatter her son; no skateboards, no baseballs, no BB guns, also to please not attend the actual party.