When the Guardian Publishes Photos of Pregnancy Tissue

October is hurrying itself into history
and I am suddenly aware of being in the middle 

of my life. No longer the beginning– 
my possibilities narrowing like lines 

toward a point on the horizon. Today 
I learned what you might have looked like,
my little jellyfish.

I was scrolling through my timeline.

I didn’t know what I was seeing,
the newspaper photograph
a Petri dish full of clouds.

Noisy image of a ghost 
magnified and dissected,
debated, demanded. 

And even at my saddest, 
I knew I wasn’t a criminal. 

But still I wish I had not 
seen the picture, my stomach 
flopping in sickness & fascination.

I thought at the time I would never know.
I didn’t know I would always wonder.

REBECCA BORNSTEIN

Rebecca Bornstein is a poet and worker who’s held many jobs—including production cook, elementary school secretary, and creative writing instructor. She is the recipient of an Oregon Literary Fellowship and the Adirondack Center for Writing’s Anne LaBastille Memorial Writing Residency. Her poetry has appeared in Puerto del Sol, Rogue Agent, Tinderbox Poetry Journal, The Baltimore Review, and The Journal, among other publications.