Could I unthink you, <br />little heart, <br />what would I do? <br />throw you out <br />with last night's garbage, <br />undo my own decisions, <br />my own flesh <br />& commit you to the void <br />again? <br /> <br />Fortunately, <br />it is not my problem. <br />You hold on, beating <br />like a little clock, <br />Swiss in your precision, <br />Japanese in your tenacity, <br />& already having <br />your own karma, <br /> <br />while I, with my half- <br />hearted maternal urges, <br />my uncertainty that any creature <br />ever really creates <br />another (unless it be <br />herself) know you <br />as God's poem <br />& myself merely as publisher, <br />as midwife, <br />as impresario, <br />oh, even, if you will, <br />as loathèd producer <br />of your Grand Spectacle: <br />you are the star, <br />& like your humblest fan, <br />I wonder <br />(gazing at your image <br />on the screen) <br />who you really are.<br /><br />Erica Jong<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/anti-conception/
