A Cold Front by William Carlos Williams

A Cold Front

This woman with a dead face

has seven foster children

and a new baby of her own in

spite of that. She want pills

for an abortion and says,

Uh hum, in reply to me while

her blanketed infant makes

unrelated grunts of salutation.

She looks at me with her mouth

open and blinks her expressionless

carved eyes, like a cat

on a limb too tired to go higher

from its tormentors. And still

the baby chortles in its spit

and there is a dull flush

almost of beauty to the woman’s face

as she says, looking at me

quietly, I won’t have any more.

In a case like this I know

quick action is the main thing.