Abortion Denied
She had dreams
as big as yours—
of college—
fine clothes—
a useful career—
but,
someone
grabbed her heart,
that junior year.
He said,
“I Love You,”
and she was
trusting
enough
to believe his
thinly sliced
Promises,
Kisses
and Caresses.
The upshot,
a baby girl
came along.
The boy soon drifted away,
a small boat, unmoored.
There was no
high school graduation
with diploma in hand,
proud parents beaming.
Home alone,
her daughter fussy,
bottle bubbling,
angry on the stove,
and later, after the baby
finally fell asleep,
she, our dropout,
stood before the mirror,
imagining a glorious
satin cap and gown,
tassel flipped to one side.
It was then she saw herself,
standing beside a dusty road,
dressed in sloppy jeans,
hard hat,
and fluorescent vest
holding a
Road Closed
sign
at fifteen bucks an hour
that she wished she had
noticed
way back when.
j
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