PUNK POETRY: Conception by Irena Praitis

Conception

 

 

I started late

and traveled alone

keeping the stranger’s sperm 

warm against my thigh—

the donor thawed by my doctor

that I drove to the inseminator’s clinic.

 

You need help with fertility

when you go it on your own,

no second set of eyes 

on the ovulation timer kit,

nobody to cry with when the 

pregnancy tests stay negative,

 

no one else’s dreams crash

when the body miscarries.

 

But what hand hold

could prepare anyone 

for the miracle,

the early rapid shadow

flutter of a heart

beating just beside my own?



--Irena Praitis 

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