An old poem.

10Sep15

I wrote this as an undergrad.  I used to write a lot.

I was a better person then.

Adoption

I ask her if she could feel
the eyes on her
in the waiting room

She says
I don’t know

She says
you will never feel
them trace the curve of your belly
looking for traces of life on its horizon

you will never know what I am
when I am part of another
and another is part of me

you will never
give real parts of yourself for months
to someone you will never know

you will never overlap with a life
that cannot be yours.

And as the night crashes down
on a blanket of streetlights
I feel like I have done these things
I can never do
all with my eyes on her.

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