A female poem

This month’s blood delays?
or kills? an unborn child.

I would have you suckle.

Breasts milkless, minimal.
Small nipples.
Friend says I’ll be a D-cup
For a baby.
I wonder. Are letters assigned
To pregnant bellies, too?

Fragile new being,
small mouth on my naked skin,
when I get you
I’ll write you a better poem.

(First published in Mattoid, Deakin University 1991)

What do you think?