Blasto-sis' (freestyle)

My Mama said she wasn't going to be
another 19 year old mother
She aborted my first sister, and that was
the right thing to do at the time.
She met my dad in medical school,
He had it going on.
Smart and sly, and with that good hair.
But no money.
She married him, and they had lots of fun and worked hard
Before they started making money.
Lots of it, and they lived like a
Prince and Princess.
It was intoxicating until they saw friends with kids.

But something was up with her
uterus.
Something was up with his sperm.
And they were both thirty-eight, so
They took all their cash and their insurance, then,
And had my sisters in a glass dish.
Twins. Mama was so happy.
Me, they froze in liquid nitrogen.
I looked like a pink lump of goo, then.
Easy to forget.
Until mama and dad got a divorce
And the judge said I was an asset
To be disposed of.
Until a white couple decided to take me and thaw me,
For they didn't have the cash that mama and dad did.
They wanted an American baby.
Not Chinese
Or Guatamelan, lke mama's gardner
Or from some former Soviet republic.
An American.
They wanted to see it born, pass through an infertile womb,
now brimming with life.
Thus I came, screaming, slippery. Dusky as hell, though, and with my mama's bad hair
not dad's.
Yet my white parents didn't care, for I was theirs.

All I can say is
I jacked this white woman's diary
And then googled my mama and dad.
Found an address, even pictures.
For real...
...I mourn for my dead sister, stilled when mama was 19,
And it was the right thing to do at the time.
I yearn for other sisters, who live just a few blocks away
With dad half the week
And look kinda sorta like me.
I want to kiss my mama, but she moved back to Philadelphia.
May I call her mama?
I guess mama's really the
white lady in the kitchen, helping me pick through college brochures...
Where're my sisters going to school this Fall?
I'd love to find out.