Planned Parenthood and a Reason to Celebrate

She said:
“I think I am sterile,
The abortion doctor
Made me sterile.”

A mirror stationed on the wall-
Reflected dimples
On the small of her back.

As I approached,
Shadows that cascaded
Along the sides of the glass
Shrank into polka dots;
Her dimples twitched with fervor
As if they swallowed the shadows
And allotted her uterus
To fill the blank space.

Behind the mirror,
A space behind the eyes-
I established a link
Between
Time & distance.

The point of sterility
Different from the moment
She wanted a child.

“The abortion made me sterile,”
She said. “Perhaps you should be grateful
To practice a pure freedom,”
I replied.

But in the morning
My dying sperm hummed
America the Brave
As if it was a Swan Song.

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