To The Doctors Of Homicide { For Gwenevere } (Rp) Poem by Frank James Ryan Jr...fjr

Dead movement verberates,
twitching from the flush
of a deep pooled canal
of blood and saline.

Still, movement verberates,
coursing past the twigs
of a helpless creation
who breathes...who feels-
until the clasp of metal tongs
snap the frail, verdant limbs,
rip the chord of 'Innocence',
quickly................stridently.

As God forbid there might be
two heartbeats detected,
scienced proof of Life
for the practitioners manifest
and the procreator's resign
as both sins cross over
the rubicon of ethics;
playing Lord, God, Jesus Christ,
and in the process...becoming-
despicable participants
in the cruelest of acts
upon the most helpless victim,
bloody murder inside a womb.

And inexplicabally......................,
' fore the ink had dried
on the Certificate of Death
of her unborn daughter,
she 'chose' a name,
and the name was Gwenevere,
defining Softness, Blessedness-
[And I think to myself]
My God, such a cold antithesis, this be!


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Frank James Ryan Jr. / FjR