Eight Haiku

dark shadows reveal
brothers entwined in my womb
one heart between them

exploratory
pincers and lasers punch through
they probe at my boys

I puff with fluid
morphine -induced dreams ensue
babies clutch for life

they call him twin b
curled up like a baby bird
drowning inside me

no need for pushing
tiny beings slide to light
the nurses are hushed

eyelids fluttering
a body thin as paper
he has toothpick toes

whisked from my embrace
now he lives inside a box
I tap on the glass

without a heartbeat
twin b stays in his pink tub
I should have held him