silent beaks speak,
tucked away for now,
no longer touched,
waiting for a delivery,
no mother in sight,
she’s been detained,
her maternal warmth absent,
a tragedy of touchlessness.
wait, what could be worse?
human babies in a hotel room,
gathered together, ‘products’ of surrogates,
flown in like commodities,
pending, to be packaged and delivered,
alone, no home, bereft of parents,
touch, a snuggle, a reassuring Whisper.
silent beaks speak.
Gary Edward Geraci