If you could have our child,
as a woman
I would
hold your hand
in labour when you
man spread all across the
hopsital bed,
your hairy legs caught in
the metal traps of
pain,
I would hold your hand,
when I heard your cries
again and again,
with tears in your eyes
but to my own uterus I hold disdain,
why do I have to be the one in pain?
