This poem was inspired by something that I saw at the 40 Days for Life Kick Off Rally in Ottawa. In front of the abortion clinic was a McDonald's van unloading its shipment for the restaurant next door. I thought that that image worked on so many levels.
Blockage
The help for which every woman begs.
And no more lethal than scrambled eggs.
Eggspress Lane. That’s what it said--
The McDonald’s van that kept the clinic
Hid. Disrobe. Cover up. Wait in line.
It’s confidential as there’s little time.
Billions served. Without question.
With only minor indigestion.
Undergone with a heavy heart but with no more
Trauma than a
Fart.
It’ll curb your hunger and it’s so nutritious.
Well sufficiently so. But there’s no dishes!
It’s no nine-course meal, but it’s no Chick Filet.
And you deserve a break today.
