My mother’s water broke when she was walking in the factory yard, the metal-cutter went bam bam. Muscles twisting, muscles squeezing, muscles forming needles that stab from the inside out. Like the metal-cutter. Bam bam. She said it was too soon for the hospital, her hands rusted with new-earned pennies. The coins ran into her embroidered pocket, cling cling. Her water broke, the machine splashed its oil on the concrete floor. Bam bam it inhaled life from her hand, fresh metal pieces came greeting the glazing summer. Opaque smoke covered her eyes, one crowded morning. Cling cling the coins ran into her pocket, she couldn’t feel the muscles pushing no more. She stood there, gutted herself to oil the damned machine. His air emptied, her oil exceeded. He was born without a blub, I heard a woman mourn instead. The metal-cutter went bam bam. The coins ran cling cling. Just, his cries I couldn’t find.