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My grandpa, a WWII vet who suffered “shell shock,” always said to me, “Your birthday’s the only date that’s a command.” And it’s served me well. My friend started to tell me about her near-death experience. Wading in a 4-foot swimming pool fed by thermal springs in Colorado, her boyfriend interrupted her to say something…

“A Poem About My Mother’s Cervix” She had 3 kids carved out of her—“guts in a bucket,” estradiol dreams, and a reopened scar in the shape of her name: a ‘C.’ The first, though, was natural: a perfect baby boy who “hardly ever cried,” who played trombone in band and straddled straight A’s his whole…