Kim Michalak
MISOPROSTOL
Three white tabs pressed against
my bottom gums, the only drug
I’ve taken this way, another first
Alone on the couch with just the dog
as company, I wait for the bottom
to drop out, debris in a yolk sac
of the wrong genetic combination
a melancholy accordion of DNA
not suitable for life anymore
The cramping begins with the hour
and I suit up in armor of heating
pads and blankets, soldiers Ben & Jerry,
and the hard stuff, too, Oxycodone
just in case it’s unbearable
The dog inches nearer, resting
his head on my womb; the unknown
web pages and message boards
suggest that the worst will be over
in 2-5 hours, but I know better
I am prepared for all the blood,
the sharp cries from my abdomen,
and the sudden emptiness, but
I am not prepared to see it
called an “abortion drug”
as if the classification canceled
out my desire for this baby
that will never be