The Aborted

A hope or dream Maybe a nightmare Never to be realized I sense a fleeting moment Of time And of knowledge that Events will never take place I will never be born Squalling beneath a bright Reflected light I will never be held And passed about Like a treasure Found unexpectedly on the ground A gift that fate has given To my mother Who is destined To be a stranger to me Known only through A pinhole of time and awareness I will never walk On weak wobbly legs Or mouth uncertain words While people pleased and puzzled Applaud I will never barf On Billy Boylan In a gaudy green hallway That smells of crayons I will never skin A knee or elbow And feel the comfort Of concerned hugs That still my sobs I will never know Sunny spring mornings Or see the dewy spider webs spun on The budding branches Of bushes and trees I will never hear The grumble of thunder Or feel the rage of wind Of see the soft fuzzy Arc of a rainbow in The calming sky I will never run Over my father's foot While learning to drive I will never know Love I will never marry Patrick Who will wed a Junkie instead and There will be no Babies I will never grow old

And cherish the seconds That seem to belong to me And to no other I will never feel The loosening grip of life I will always remain An inking An iota of doubt That causes people To pause and wonder Whether something is Missing "I should have bumped Into somebody but nobody Was there" "The picture of three Ought be of four" "I ought to have shared This supper But I was alone" The minute hole In reality My life Will go largely Unnoticed I will be that Vague emptiness everyone Feels Even at death When memories of life Seem somehow lacking I am a vagrant idea Thought then forgotten That passes Through the minds Of all that Should have Known Me