Next Step

Three days later,
I find myself in the
business office of a
much anticipated interview.

“Where do you see
yourself in 5 months?”
the recruiter with subtle
red lipstick inquires.

I feel judged.
In 5 months you
can hear the fetal heartbeat
through a stethoscope.

If only this woman
with her pin straight hair
could see my mind
backtracking to

three days prior.

Strangely patterned pillows
A stuffed Batman plush
at the foot of the bed
and me.

Knees drawn to my chest
folded inside myself
wide-eyed, pale
still sweaty and shaking.

A boy, or rather
a young man puts
a gentle arm
around me.

Both of us unaware
of our nakedness
we stare past the
crimson sex stained sheets.

Focus on the
ripped Trojan.
Broken, torn, lacerated.

How many synonyms are there for defective?

Can’t afford Plan B,
or the generic.
Planned Parenthood is just
a concept in movies.

…in 5 months…

It will have fingernails,
eyelashes, “quickening”
more movement in the uterus.
I think all this.

Then say aloud,
“Well, Ms. Bard,
in 5 months I hope
to be happy.”