Dangerous Weapon
by Helen Graebner
"Here, Baby dear, your mouth is in your face
Not over there upon the curtain lace."
A spoon seems such a harmless sort of thing
Until a baby starts to let one swing
Filled up with juicy egg or squashy prune.
Authorities would have us sweetly croon
In dulcet tones with voices low
"Here, Darling, see? We do it so."
They never had egg dropped upon their dress,
Nor prunes thrown on the floor in purple mess.
A harmless sort of tool you think a spoon?
Just feed our baby and you'll change your tune.
Feeding Diane
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