She sleeps without lungs.
Just a powerful little growing thing.
An arm twitches and a leg kicks.
Her heart races on like a race car engine.
So does the heart of her twin.
They’re both sleeping now.
Growing is hard work, you know.
The invasion goes unnoticed.
A needle enters with silent and deadly accuracy.
One heart stops beating
But who knows what the other will do?
Maybe it keeps racing until she’s born.
She grows up to be anything she wants to be,
A movie star, a singer, a doctor,
A lawyer, a doctor, a teacher, or
A non-of-the-above kind of woman.
Maybe it stops too,
And she sleeps with her sister,
Never to face the trials and tribulations of the world.
Never to love, to hate,
To fail, to succeed,
To be, or not to be.
This is the place between twin possibilities,
The space where the beating of hearts hand in the balance,
For the stopping of an unborn heart is a heartbreaking thing.
Let no man or woman tell you any different.