Babies Are for Locking Up

Back in September, I was poised to release a chapbook of cat poems. However, I had to delay the release because I inadvertently submitted one of the cat poems to a journal. Well, the journal declined to publish any of my poems, so I’ll be releasing the cat chapbook soon. I just need to do a final double-check 😊

My third full-length book, Shadow and Memory, offers a range of poems—traditional, free verse, serious, whimsical. The poem below is either whimsically serious or seriously whimsical, your choice. It starts with a quirky thought that grows into philosophical reflection. Let me know if it sparks any philosophizing or whimsy as you read 😉

Babies Are for Locking Up

Babies are for locking up.

It’s terrible to say
but that’s how it seems.

They start locked up 
in the womb.

They tunnel out but the doctor’s there
to catch them, swaddle them,
and hand them back
to their mother-wardens

who put them behind bars
in cribs.
From there it’s time in the pen

the playpen, that is,
where they might get yard privileges
or early release for good behavior.

When they outgrow the pen 
and even the big house,
it’s off to reform school.

Adults graduate to minimum security;
we have this whole planet,
“the earth with her bars,” as Jonah said.
So what do we do?

Explore space.

And I wonder:
what new walls are we tracing
with our rocket-fingers
in the dark?

What door will we find,
and where will it lead?

Where does any of it lead?