This tiny precious growth
Was nestled in my womb
Until the day they wheeled me
Into that god-forsaken operating room.

Translucent paper gown
Is all I have to catch my tears
If only had more to cover myself
I might disguise my fears.

The doctors were well-meaning
The instruments they used, cold
They cut into me right past my heart
And straight through to my soul.

Can't you see you've taken everything?
All that might have brought us joy
I asked the nurse what my growth had been
You killed our son. My boy.