The muses smiled upon the child
Her eyes shut to the dark of the night
They came with boxes and baskets
Giving out gifts to the small strange child.
They said:
"Here's a knife to sharpen up your tongue.
Here's a rope to bind you to life.
Here's a crib for you to rock -
Here is sadness wrapped in swaddling blankets.
Here's a hint we would like to drop
Let's see if you can catch and keep it.'
The first muse shook her head,
Her fairy godmother dress in tatters and rags
As she handed over the rope, she had a few words of advice:
"You might think you would like to stop
For a while, sit and picnic by the side of the road;
But all peace is transitory,
All these tales are but a twisted prehistory.
You might think you've the wit of the fox
But all you have is a mind full of tears
And a blindness to fear.
But we wish you well
And one day you may tell
The story of those years."
The knife was sharp and polished like a mirror
The second Muse stood, her lips less of a smile than a sneer.
Holding it up to the light, she showed the child a glimpse of second sight:
"The cop stands with her hand on her gun,
Hip slung, tight lipped, she runs a smart ship.
Californian redwood, undergrowth:
You can't stop by the side of the road.
You have to keep on moving
You have to roam alone, without a home:
The world is the sea and you are the foam."
The third Muse handed over the baby bed
Painted with cherry blossoms and rabbit heads.
Turning away from the other sisters, this damned fairy
Both damned and blessed her.
"Child, dream of running away,
Catching a pony and heading for the hills
Child dream that some day
All these wrongs will be avenged and concealed.
Little house on the prairie be your wonderland
Long for plum creeks and pecan nut pies
And chubby little baby cheeks
To hold in the apple of your eye
And the palm of your hand.
Win some and lose some
Keep one close and hold another from afar
You will have no horse, but I'll send you a car.
Love some, but stay with none.
Speak some truth
And then hold your tongue.
Ropes may bind and knives may cut
But nothing will cause pain like the
Doors that will open . . . then shut."
The child stared at the weird sisters
Holding out gifts and chattering about
Parking meters.
She shuffled up to the end of her bed
And closing her eyes
Wished that she soon would be
Dead.
