Dear sperm donor,

I understand.

I understand the desire to let loose and release

and unleash and quench that unquenchable fire.


I understand the need to be free

of the need and the anger

and the greed.


I understand the ache to be a god

in the arms of a goddess sans a dress

with the body of digital marble,

to be in ecstasy


completely. I understand.


But, dear sperm donor,


Have you considered the weight, the responsibility,

the instability caused by your sudden, instant,

fly-by-the need-of-your-pants donation?


Have you considered that your enjoyment

Of a sliding scale of sexual ethic

That is sliding higher and higher up her thigh

Always leads

To an ovary


Perhaps guarded,

Perhaps not?


Have you considered the irony of the phrase

Unexpected Pregnancy

‘Cause for all the living who were once dead

There is only one sure-proof method

To make life

Where none was before

and that is to be like you,

to be a donor.


Have you considered

the joy

of having your independence



Have you considered the ugliness

of discovering yourself

inside so many others,

or how your lack of commitment

commits others to scars

that will never fully heal,

(for how could one stupid little night screwing around actually be a razor blade
splitting open the flesh of one’s entire existence?)


Have you considered

the beauty of someone

knowing your name

and it’s Daddy?


Have you considered the life in dying

to yourself so that he, or she, can live?

Have you considered

looking into that mirror

of helpless flesh and fear

A little bit of her

And a lot of you,

And yet someone completely



Have you considered?


But I understand.


For I could be a sperm donor too.


If not for my father

who committed to his girlfriend’s

Unexpected Pregnancy

in the face of small-town scorn,


If not for his father

who taught him courage and decency,


If not for his father

who sits in heaven above


we might have all stopped in,

made a one-time donation

and split, because commitment

would have cost

and we would have lost our control

of it.


We would have rode off to just

one more taste of unquenchable fire,

For it’s only natural, right?

This masculine donation desire?

The manhood fight or flight?

My enlightened approach to someone’s daughter tonight?


Dear sperm donor,


I understand. I really do.


But there’s so much more

to you.


So much more

than your career, what you do

the logo on your shoe,

the meal on your plate,

your choice of candidate


And so much more

than your goal

of penetrating another soul


For there’s courage deep within

buried under the self-made porn

For something more

For someone more


So, dear sperm donor,


I understand.


But please – donate something



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Image Credit: “Holding Hands,” by daily sunny – Creative Commons