I saw you,
Once.
You had a name,
Once.
A home,
Once.

You were held within my womb,
Once.

But you never got a breath of air.
You never got to know your name.
I never even knew you where there
Until it was too late.

I had you for five weeks.

It was too short.

Today, I said goodbye to a fertilized
Chicken fetus
Living in the shell
Of an egg I cracked.

Two lives
I never meant to take.

I held a funeral for them
In my back yard.
Burnt what we had,
Wrapped in paper, cloth, and incense.

Gave him a name. A headstone in our yard.

I wish I had done that for you.

I'm so sorry.