Someone abandoned a baby’s stroller

in my backyard. A black one with its hood extended

sitting on the lush blades of my lawn.

My mother looked out of her bay window

and alerted me, wondering why anyone would

wheel it onto our property.

Is there a baby in it? I asked and peered.

There wasn’t. These days people sometimes

put dogs in strollers, but there wasn’t even an animal

inside, just some kind of plastic 

and more stuff in the compartment below.

My mother remarked there might be some kind of bomb inside,

though she didn’t seriously think so.

She urged me to get rid of the stroller since it seemed old.

Half an hour later before I could perform the task,

a Chinese couple with a baby

emerged from the trail next to our fence

and retrieved their carriage. They’d parked it in my yard

for their convenience. Mystery solved. A happy ending,

instead of a team having to defuse a bomb,

instead of a baby needing foster parents,

instead of a dog crying for care,

instead of a stroller destined for the dump.

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Tara Menon is an Indian-American writer based in Lexington, Massachusetts. More than eighty of her poems have been published in magazines, literary journals, and anthologies. Menon was a finalist for the Willow Run Poetry Book Award 2023/2024. Her latest poems have appeared in “Sheila-Na-Gig,” “Tipton Poetry Journal,” “Adanna Literary Journal,” “Arlington Poetry Journal,” and “A Plate of Pandemic.”