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Array
(
[sid] => 134671
[catid] => 1
[aid] => mick
[title] => Choriocarcinoma
[time] => 2007-05-24 21:08:44
[hometext] => A friend of mine just found out that she was pregnant, sort of.
[bodytext] => To a backdrop of stars and crickets, we kiss. I lie back, in full bloom, and, in a fevered union, we embrace, celebrating the secret reason for our love. The next few weeks are turbulent. I shed from my shoulders all debts and loyalties, including yours, ready for the rest of my life, before discovering what was missing. A thin blue line says it all. We’re having a baby. How do you un-dump a brand new father? Within weeks, another surprise. Twins. I haven’t smoked or drank a drop, I’m going to be the best mom ever! I guess school can wait. My second ultrasound, and things are different. They tell me words I never expected to hear. I’m not pregnant. Never was. There is something growing inside me, however, two things, placentae, but just no babies. I’ve failed as a mother, I couldn’t take care of them. “No,” they say, “There never were any babies. These placentas are cancer.” A wave of sickness overcomes me. I’m supposed to make life! This is a magnificent suicide. Why is my body doing this? What dark revenge does it seek? This rot, this killer came in when you did, modified genes and germs and your love was a poison apple, your fertile seed, a desert, and in your tracks, a figure of speech plays out as a lonely girl gets eaten alive by love. [comments] => 4 [counter] => 241 [topic] => 21 [informant] => butterat_zool [notes] => [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => english [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 10 [ratings] => 2 [editpoem] => 0 [associated] => [topicname] => Lifepoems )
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