The Unplanned Child Poem by James McLain

Broken down meatal cribs with wooden bars.
About the first,
it was as much to her as I to it,
the cloth thread bare.

It was so much and different from today,
always dark and no sunrise.
Biblical, baby names,
like James, Richard and Robert.

A sister Sharon like an olds.
That never seemed to run.
Was always hot.
To much salk and lot enough
we turn away from doing that.

It is diffrent now planned parent hood.
She wore a mask.
To even touch her face it ment another child.
Being pregnant when a man has had enough.
I go fishing
and those worms they take me back.