The vacuum wasn't working today,
so a dozen infants were spared aspiration
from a room custom built as a suite
for natal genocide;
while the deep, steel disposal box,
and its cunning guise of shimmer
is paled by clinical darkness today,
devoid of small body parts.
So, sleep well, doctors of homicide,
the vacuum repair-man delivered today,
guarantees a productive tomorrow -
to the angst of all mens gods,
who fear dread from the River Styx,
stalking stained black-bloody hallways
into the surgical killing field...
where death lives and life dies,
and the victims have no self defense;
such gravid, maternal betrayal.
MMXVI-FjR
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