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Poetry | July 2006

Hush Little Baby

By Mary Weiler

in my daughter’s 13th weekhush little baby
holding my hand tight to her belly
she asks, do you feel the baby?don’t say a word
unexpected electricity cracks

jolts me back to 1962
my 13th week

full of hippy freedom in Ann Arbor
I flew to a warehouse in New York City
and got in line

a small room, the window cradling the sunhush little baby
a woman holding my hand
or holding me downdon’t say a word
after, the doctor sat down on a stoolhush
in the corner of the roomlittle
holding his head in bloodied handsbaby

don’t say a word

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