For Gwenevere: }{:
Dead movement verberates,
still twitching from the flush,
trapped in a pooled canal
of blood and saline.
Still, movement verberates,
courses thru' the infant twigs,
until, the clasp of metal tongs
snap the frail, verdant limbs,
rip the chord of 'Innocence',
quickly................stridently,
as God forbid there be
a detection of two heartbeats,
a scienced proof of Life
for the practitioners manifest
and the resigning matriarch;
as both cross over ethics line
playing Lord, God, Jesus Christ-
and in the process...becoming-
participants in the cruelest act
of bloody murder inside a womb,
tho' inexplicabally......................,
' fore the ink had dried
on the Certificate of Death
of her unborn daughter,
she 'chose' a name,
and the name was: Gwenevere,
defining Softness, Blessedness;
[And I think to myself]
My God, such a cold antithesis, this be!
poem by Frank James Ryan Jr.
Added by Poetry Lover
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