Bound to verify the unspeakable
we marched through woods and swamp
toward the deserted house we'd heard about
in low-voiced adult talk.

Not that we loved babies. In those
fat belly days those already devalued heavenly gifts
were gluts not as exciting as kittens or frogs.
But this bright autumn Saturday we wanted
to find out if the rumors were true.

And I still remember that old house,
gray shingled through the trees with
dank rooms of stained wallpaper and battered baseboards.
The closets and attic contained nothing
but fillers for our imaginations.
But outside in the overgrown yard a deep dug well
beneath mossy boards
smelled to us like a thousand rotting fetuses.