Post-Modern Post

Here is the poem I created based on my second ten page story:

Moms don't know half of what goes on

...And grandpa...
He pulls a lung, black and scarred
from the back of his throat.

Uncle Frank sews pieces onto the AIDS Quilt,
And I...

Forgive me.
Children are scared of the dark
and the whirr of a white machine
spinning around their heads.

You're on Candid Camera.
Growing and pushing
and bleeding inside itself,
it could have been tragic.

Blue cotton gowns don't cover up fear.