Child-mining 2 miles down
At the face of the fetus seam
Mason jars at the ready
Miners with latex gloves and forceps
Plucking them out one by one
With a gentle but audible splurk
Clamp down the rubber seal
And pass it to the chain of hands behind
Onto conveyors for sorting
The deformed ones given to couples with unclean thoughts
Miles & miles of conveyors
And storks at the out-chutes
Smoking and cracking their beaks and laughing
Until the balding one in shirtsleeves makes the rounds
Passing out assignment slips.