for the babies

if I have to hear about

one more baby being raped

or tortured

or mutilated

I’ll have to kill someone

it will have to be some stranger

since I don’t know

any baby rapers

at least, I don’t think I do

and anyway

picking a random someone

would be appropriate

symbolic

I would use a knife or a gun

or a rope or an ice-pick

standard stuff

I don’t know much about the

killing business

but I’m sure I’d pick it up quickly

and after he was dead

the random guy

the tree trimmer

the ice-cream man

the plumber

I’d carve something on his chest

‘this one’s for the babies’

yeah

but maybe that’s not symbolic enough

maybe I should pick someone famous

not like Jay Leno or Ryan Seacrest

but someone people don’t like much

or maybe Ryan Seacrest

then I’d use the knife or the gun

or the rope or the ice-pick

and then I’d be arrested

and people would be angry, confused

‘why Jay?’ ‘why Ryan?’

and I’d tell them—

it’s for the babies

someone’s got to do something

and they’d say—

she’s crazy

and they’d tie me up

and put me on a plane

and when we reached cruising altitude

they’d push me out

to fly down

to the wide warm ocean

that would not part gently

but receive me

like a fat slab of concrete

and I’ll say—

but this one’s for the babies

the sweet sad babies left on shelves

left in boxes

left at home in the evenings

left to unlock the front doors

and sit at the table doing their homework

left to find something,

maybe old pasta or fish fingers,

in the refrigerator

left to remember to lock the front door

left to wait for the footsteps of

the man who doesn’t need to break in

to reach them