The Beauty Of A Dead Baby Poem by Milos Jovanka

Heres a bundle of joy for you,8 pounds of rotten flesh
Smooth grey skin of a human sized football
Staring lifeless from closed button holed eyes
It's oversized head hangs from its broken neck
As it's little fingers and its little toes
Will never go wee wee all the way home
You'll never hear it's itsy- bitsy mouth
Crying for mommy when it's left in the dark


There is a strange kind of serenity
In the beauty of a dead baby


See how it's soft skin glistens in the light.
The way its cherub cheeks poses in peace
Blue and bloated like a porcelain doll
Steralized with its tender innocence
As if it were hermetically sealed by time
Free of degradation of this scum called life
Look at its little hands curled into fists
So tight and small as the size of your thumb

Its nothing now but a fetus shaped paper weight
A lump of flesh you can use as a doorstop
Maybe stuff it up with formaldehyde
And lock it inside of display case
Make it the centerpiece on the fireplace
Show off your mummified cabbage patch kid
It's smooth bald head immaculate conceived
In the miracle of embalming fluid


You will cry and see its death as a tragedy
Some awful crime the worst of Humanity
But I find peace to know it's at ease
Comfort to know first breath was its last
It will never see this world rot you
And slowly turn you into a monster
It will never laugh but it will never cry
Never know the pain and yearning for love


Pure as fresh frost that grows on a cross
Untainted by this world's brutal montage
Free from the war of a dog eat dog world
Never have to learn how we tear eachother
How we lie to one another and pretend it's the truth
Or learn how loneliness is our only good friend
So let go of your mind and kill your vain ego
Then you could see... the beauty of a dead baby