when abortion is shorn of its verbiage
all that is left
is me, you and the curette
my unborn child

my advocates want to make sure that
you are lost in the rhetoric
but that shouldn't be

the truth is: it's you or me
that's the choice
you're still a clump of cells
that knowledge alone quells
about any doubts I may have;
the value of your life is
but a construct, an attribute
externally conferred, like a title
not self-evident

that's my empowerment over you
and there's nothing anyone can do