Hush Little Baby
| in my daughter’s 13th week | hush 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 weekfull 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 sun | hush little baby |
| a woman holding my hand | |
| or holding me down | don’t say a word |
| after, the doctor sat down on a stool | hush |
| in the corner of the room | little |
| holding his head in bloodied hands | baby |
don’t say a word