Tripped Up

Edges of his reason fragment:
eyes falling up, back, he burrows
between his own lungs, liquid
thrumming ribcage filling cavities, rising
like vomit in his throat
until it bursts behind his teeth –
sobs cracking like eggs on the boardwalk.
Too full to tell, the safety
of kaleidoscope vision rearranging
shards of cattails and sky into the curve
of his mother’s mouth.