In the name of discipline

From curtain rod holders,
a six-year old swings,
On a chair a policeman sits,
shaking his head in disbelief,
He moves away to stop the itch,
to untie the baby hanging from two strings,
sand-filled buckets weighing down his feet,
bruises covering every inch,
ribs jutting out through his skin,
The neighbor says, “I had to ring when the child was nowhere to be seen,
don’t know where his daddy’s been.”
Cop walks out taking his momma in,
She explains, “he always been a difficult kid,
so I was only giving him some discipline.”