Baby Jane Doe

I had not expected you to be

Consumed in a blast of politicized mambo-jumbo

Then just as suddenly

Reduced to silence

when the wolves got what they came for

You–downy layer of protective hair

Beating heart, the ability to grasp and suck and distinguish

Light and the way things taste

Orange-sized child

If I could have pressed my face close

To your mother’s belly

You could have picked out my voice

Telling you how much I wanted you

To live.

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