The Aborted

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