Abortions will not let you forget.
You remember the children you got that you did not get,  
The damp small pulps with a little or with no hair,  
The singers and workers that never handled the air.  
You will never neglect or beat
Them, or silence or buy with a sweet.
You will never wind up the *******-thumb
Or scuttle off ghosts that come.
You will never leave them, controlling your luscious sigh,  
Return for a snack of them, with gobbling mother-eye.


Abortions will not
Let you remember the child
Or scuttle off ghosts that come.