on a stud farm, 'she just didn't stick,'
in human form, the heart didn't tick
it's resonance at the seventh week
as the doc and parents seek
the heart-beat of a neo-nate,
a placental fusion of two mates.

in a flurry of echo's silence
she sat bewildered, not trusting in science
that said 'you're not expecting!'
wisely, the doc nods, carefully reflecting.
'keep on trying, tho the hurt is real
ever forward, ever onward, never still.'

(cloaked in shadowed-blue cold
a could-be mom shivers, feigning: bold.
she has an itch that can't be scratched
when her child is suddenly snatched
from this place we know so well
to somewhere else in Time to dwell.)

a gatekeeper's smile extruded from the doctor,
an educated woman with caring, that proferred
'all is right and as it should be'...
just keep your posture and soon you'll see
that when it's time, and it will come
you'll have a daughter or loving son.

05/27/2005