An offhand remark you make reminds me
Of the IV plunging into the back of my hand
This thing I needed to birth the idea of you
This thing that left me black and blue for weeks
Yes, it was worth it — Yes, it hurt a lot
Nothing much plonking between my brain cogs
Aside from the what-the-fuck-am-I-doing of it all
At the time I didn’t know if it was worth it
I didn’t know if there would ever be a time
When I didn’t want to commit seppuku
To scoop you and your brethren out of my guts
And your mama, so kind as I bawled in her car
Squinting past the agony to reassure me
It’d be over soon—she, too, could never imagine
(You)