It's a bomb on your doorstep. Wrapped up in a pastel pink and white blanket. Swaddled in a babys basket You don't even hear the ticking over all the babble You just assumed it was designed to protect. You never asked anyone Or questioned where the basket came from. Where it got this baby. Why it is concealing it's wicker with this blanket. You bring it inside.
Wake up tossing and turning hear a ticking downstairs In your kitchen. On the island. "You're hearing things" close your eyes. It's too loud. Walk down to see just a basket A blanket The baby is tucked in tight You were hearing things "Go back to bed sweety." But the basket keeps ticking. "Baskets are supposed to tick" you never question it again.
You never see it explode. Just find and count the pieces Wicker shrapnel where there should have been guidance. Viscera where there should have been eyes.