expensive baby/mother man

i feel this deep exhaustion
this, oh please tell me otherwise
this

who am i kidding
about the price of fertility

and by that i mean 
enhancement
and by that i mean
i am old
and by that i mean
i am becoming a man,
if a woman, too

the reckoning that baby
may not be mine,
at least in this lifetime
as i thought

i look at the numbers
quoting cost of medicine, 
retrieval-- cycles of, freezing
leagues beyond anything i have
available, bank account quivering

i think of diane di prima's song
for baby O, unborn: Sweetheart
when you break thru/ you’ll find
a poet here/not quite what one would choose

what to say except,
i wanted it so badly

give up one desire
to become another?
Be Your Own Baby,
just as i had flaunted
Be Your Own Mother
some years ago

the penis thrusts,
the lace nightgown falls
my womb ignites
and i can't tell which organs
are which in this haze
and flux and melange

some years ago
i learned that my parents
gave my twin brother a large sum
of money, more than either of us
felt possible, to help buy a home
for his family. at the time i was
suffering largely, needing to pay
for a health procedure 
to essentially save my life,
a fraction of what was allotted him
(in cost) and they offered me half.
i was very grateful, for any aid 
at all, it was only when i learned
of the immense discrepancy
i felt heartbroke, queer negligent
floating into the woods, no boomer
markers of success, tremulous
existence-- oh but i don't mean 
to sound so woe is me it just hurt(s)

and today i tenderly inquire
if there is finance available 
to help me preserve an egg
simple as that, and oh,
what mountains

part of me wishes
they will say no,
so i can just
get on with it all
already

the other yearning 
for a yes, expand
the realm of possibility
keep it open

little baby not just me
but something else