(2) Name: not given

Abortions will not let you forget*
Time can’t heal any wounds,
Really,
He only gives you the distance
To see yourself objectively.

Your uterus has stopped bleeding,
You’re in the kitchen rinsing dishes,
They clink, slosh, and clatter in time,
But your soft voice somehow manages
To carry itself, one soft note
Over another, into my ear,
Which lies exhausted,
On top of my pillow.

Smiles have started to creep back onto your face
Before you realize that they are there.
A supernova with its brilliant flash
Before immediate extinction.

That night when I held you,
Rocking you slowly
Until your body
Gently unfurled
From its defensive ball,

I became something bigger than I have ever been.

Writers speak of love, devotion, infatuation.
You did not teach me any of these.
You taught me how to live,
By walking with me
In the hands of Death.



*Gwendolyn Brooks, the mother 1945