Women’s Work, of Art
(On abortion)
Of course, my womanhood
Comes as the moon
Empty skies bow, should I
Decline to bloom
Here I sit atop the roof
Of my waiting room
Expecting a kick
From inside thy womb
Alas, she has failed,
Now life’s prude
If only my womanhood had prevailed
I’d be full from each coming moon.
Now a Bard, waning with the sky
Asks Earth the reason for her Mother’s doom
In cosmic sighs she replies,
“Poet, you were born as empty as my moon,
Alone. Do not despair,
Do not croon;
Life will ebb, and yours will bare
From lullabies to a blank’d moon.”
Comments