“Baby”
by Henry Englert
I want to make a calendar out of you.
Take your chromolithographic looks and mass-produce them,
Then scribble my meeting times in the boxes below.
Baby,
Looking at you
Posing like that,
I want to know the long term effects of radiation exposure on the human body.
You make me wonder how napalm would feel if I held it in my hands.
And baby,
You’re too good for the nose of a B-52,
Or the side pocket of a foot soldier’s personal effects.
You need to be seen.
Shared with all of us.
Cuz you, my love, are too perfect for privacy.
Correct me if I’m wrong,
But I heard somewhere that your ancestors sprang from the outer reefs of the Marshall
Islands.
They were forged stiff and beautiful in nuclear fire,
Bathed in the waters of Bikini Atoll,
And promptly watercolored
Pink and light green and sky blue.
When it was all done
Everyone had that glossy finish,
Like the ones on Big Chill fridges.
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