Poem For an Unwanted Child

March 2, 2008

The lips of the unborn infant
nurse in the dark of the womb.

Kisses are sustenance.
Words are empty, words are lies.

The infant dreams,
rolling in the amniotic ocean.

Hands can hold secrets;
hands can make fists.

The infant grows, becomes,
is born.

This child was never hers,
she rages.

No heart shaped poem,
no mother love.