Squirming

Abortion crossed her mind, my mother twists 

herself in the chair when she confesses that to me, 

her brown eyes frisking my brown eyes, 

but find no attitude, no back talk.

It does not phase me to know I might not be here, 

may have been nipped in my bud-hood. 

I feel my worth, know it was him not me

she sought escape from.

I can see her without me 

and see she would also be without them--

this sister, these brothers of mine,

the timing without me for all 

would have become altered--

other eggs would have waited and yoked, 

and then who would she be talking to now?

And would she be saying, 

You almost had an older sister? 

And me, just a tiny boney fish, 
would have lived and died in a dream 
like no other, 

but here we are, my mother laughs, 
squirming. Here we are, we two.

She had to get it all out, I understand. 

She deserves much more happiness 

and that little glob of semirigid polymer
gladly would have given 
herself up for such a worthy cause.