I was born inside a normal-sized, inflatable ball.
The ball did not have to burst to free me. I quietly unfolded one segment -- the red one -- and slipped myself out when the time was right.
Like the alien in Jordan Peele's Nope, the world ball sealed itself with a reparative sliver of red plastic and left no trace of fold.
Only recently did my ancestors tell me this was no ordinary ball.
Some have asked me what it feels like to have been carried for nine months, buoyant, in the communal leisure of the poets.
I have said it before and will say it again.
They didn't name me Sestina for nothing.
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Thanks for supporting the good sport of Worldball, you are loved.