Egg Donor

April 7, 2018

You, my child, are

by all accounts happy.

Your parents paid a pretty penny

for my half of you.

 

Not my half anymore.

Bought and sold.

My DNA, no longer mine,

odd.

 

I never carried you.

Haven’t touched you

since you were twenty-three

chromosomes.

 

Psychological screenings.

They needed to see I

wouldn’t want my half back.

Slice the baby in two.

 

They said I had a big heart.

Empty wallet rather.

Now empty womb.

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