Intertwining spark and spark
Igniting, a dirty thing it is
We are
The thing that makes spring come again

But I should know by now,
That nothing green will ever come from me
The bad drought,
A dried up waste.

I do this to myself, I shut the water off
On a fire that is already burning
I shut myself off, a pill to murder
A cold sip of water
And it is done.
I could do this again & again
After every erotic touch

I fear spring, I do not wish to see it
I am the jagged thorn in a rosebush
That suffocates everything
Though everytime I see a flower
I feel heartbreak.

06/30/2005

Author's Note: DISCLAIMER: This poem is neither against or for abortion.

Posted on 06/30/2005
Copyright © 2026 Wendy Geal