Spring Equinox Spent at Planned Parenthood

While lilac, wild iris and apple bloom.
Still in the early weeks. I'd take her hand,
Bravely, I thought, confront the sterile room
With her as spring, profuse, came all unplanned
Around us. Lying, ungowned and undraped
Myself, a mind as cool as stainless steel
Is bright, left me—with loss—ripe as a grape—
Send these thoughts to Pathology. Why feel
This twelve years late, and in the last spring cold,
Running to where I'm rich beyond belief
In much of anything, where all the gold
-finches and rife, yellow roses make grief
Sinful, idle, as though we were to mourn
Each creature whose fate is to be born.

 

Poems by Jamie Irons: