Empty Chair In A Field Poem by Sheena Blackhall

I think the empty chair I saw in a field
(A gleaned, shaved, empty field)
Is where the Abortions come
(Those little unwanteds, parents flushed away)
To sit for a time and wonder

I think at twilight they tiptoe out of limbo
And take it in turns to imagine
What kind a person they might have grown to be
A real person with walls a roof
A life and a dog called Bones

I think at twilight they tiptoe out of limbo
And take it in turns to imagine
Going to sleep with a stuffed bear
And a lipsticky kiss all smeary and smelling of cakes

I think they sit on that chair and pucker their little lips up
Inventing names and families for themselves

Somebody took the rockers off the chair
I call that an act of cruelty