Swallow a big pill
Or use a knitting needle
It's all just a joke.

Somebody who should have been born
is gone.

Just as the earth puckered its mouth,
each bud puffing out from its knot,
I changed my shoes, and then drove south.

Up past the Blue Mountains, where
Pennsylvania humps on endlessly,
wearing, like a crayoned cat, its green hair,

its roads sunken in like a gray washboard;
where, in truth, the ground cracks evilly,
a dark socket from which the coal has poured,

Somebody who should have been born
is gone.

the grass as bristly and stout as chives,
and me wondering when the ground would break,
and me wondering how anything fragile survives;

up in Pennsylvania, I met a little man,
not Rumpelstiltskin, at all, at all...
he took the fullness that love began.

Returning north, even the sky grew thin
like a high window looking nowhere.
The road was as flat as a sheet of tin.

Somebody who should have been born
is gone.

Yes, woman, such logic will lead
to loss without death. Or say what you meant,
you coward...this baby that I bleed.

is such an ugly word.
It's ******
      gory
      heart tearing.

People think they can
                                       understand
                                       sympathise
                                 relate on some level.
That's what I thought-
but you simply
                           CAN'T.

The depth of emotion for such
a blatant mi
                 ra
                cle is stronger
than you could
imagine.

And then it's
               taken
               away.

Against a door
on your knees
doubled over
throat hoarse
eyes swollen
tear tracks
skin under nails
scratches down face.

Miscarriage

If I hadn’t stepped outside, I would not
have seen the cloud buried deep in the approaching
storm I vaguely remembering hearing about. I would
not have seen the hole in the mist, the darkest
blue splot of our baby, blasted against the
lightning heavens. I would not have heard
the coyote howl or the neighborhood dogs
bark back, bark bark barking, as if you
would eventually return their perilous cries.
I would not have had to bite my tongue
from interrupting their noises with my own one—
a single scream—all out-stretched to you as
the windy sea blew a blue cloud into
you, crushing you into the embryo, the egg,
the moment before you did not exist. I
would not have stood there on the grass,
head tipped up to where you once bud – a
cutout memory in already drifting fog – and I
would not have let the rain fall into my
open mouth as I thought about how easy
it would be, how easy it could be to finally drown.

I Loved The Thought Of Being A Father,
I Wasn't Sure If I Was Ready To Make That Step But My Name Was Called,
I Felt Sure I Was Ready Then,
Cherishing The Thought.
Now I've Been Told,
Been Told That We Had A Abortion.
I Was So Confused,
How Could She Do This To Me Without Consultation.
That's When The Doctor Told Me,
Your Baby Is Dead.
I Swear In That Fraction Of A Second My World Crashed Down,
My Heart Withered And All Signs Of Hope Had Wilted.
I Didn't Realise That It's Not A Miscarriage Any More,
"We Changed The Name".
Could Have Fooled Me.
Now I'm Left,
Left Here On My Own,
She's Gone,
My Child Gone,
Love, Hope, Gone.
What Am I Left With Now.
I Feel Empty And Incomplete,
What Is This Feeling.
I Never Knew My Child,
So Why Do I Feel This Way,
I've Been Told I Would Make A Great Father And I Thought That Now Was My Chance.
How Wrong I Was.
I Want My Chance,
It's Not Fair.
All You Ever Hear Of Is Drugged Up Teen's Getting Pregnant,
And Here I Am Working,
Paying My Taxes,
Doing My Bit For The Community And Trying To Help.
But I Am The One Who Has My Child Taken Away,
In What World Does That Make Sense,
How Is This Fair.
That Child Would Have Been Loved And Cared For,
I Would Have Done Everything Possible To Provide What That Child Wanted And Needed,
Now They Have Taken Him Away.
I Hope That Wherever That Sweet Little Soul has Gone Is Better Than This Place,
No Worry Of Money,
Politic's,
War.
I Pray To The Heaven's To Look After My Child,
If Not There Shall Be No Hell That You Could Imagine Worse Than The One I Will Make You Experience.
So On This Sombre Note,
I Leave You,
Knowing,
Hoping,
That Out There Is My Child,
Most Likely Living A Better Life Than I Could Have Provided.
Now I Know What Pain Mean's.