“Abortions will not let you forget.
You remember the children you got that you did not get . . .”
—the mother, Gwendolyn Brooks

The doctor thinks she doesn’t want to be a mother.
He wants her guilt, his surgery a confessional.
She thinks he would like to see her suffer

and only when he believes he has crushed her
does he send her form to another professional.
The doctor thinks she doesn’t want to be a mother.

She doesn’t try to convince him—why bother,
he sees the choice as objectionable, quasi-criminal.
She thinks he would like to see her suffer.

She says nothing to her children or their father,
whispers to friends who are non-judgmental.
The doctor thinks she doesn’t want to be a mother,

not asking if there is money or time or love for another.
Her husband won’t understand, is not capable.
She thinks he would like to see her suffer.

The white pills take two days to work. It is over,
the blood passed, the relief and pain unequivocal.
The doctor thinks she doesn’t want to be a mother.
She thinks he would like to see her suffer.