DEAD CHILD

There’s a child with a bloated belly cowering in my bed.
His eyes, surprisingly calm, have begun to spill.
Flies nibble at the corners of his pale lips, forage
in his tousled brittle curls.
 
It’s complicated to sleep beside a dead child.
 
An unknown child lies here, souring the air with advanced decay.
And his blood has crusted and stained my linen.
 
Its a shame to throw a dead child to be scavenged in the streets.
Its late, anyway, I need my bed
and I just can't sleep with some dead child at my breast.

כדי לישון בשקט אני צריך לזרוק ילדים מתים ממיטתי

כדי לישון בשקט אני צריך לזרוק ילדים מתים ממיטתי