I suspect what they say
about magpies –
that one means sorrow
two means joy
- may not be true
Liar, liar, pants on fire
Nor are they any
any of those old nursery rhymes
There was once an old woman
who swallowed a fly
Because now I'm grown up
old enough to know that in real life –
the thing they call "the real world"
- old women don't swallow flies.
But there was this
old woman
who caught a bug
Perhaps she'll die
And so the clock ticked down
1, 2, 3-4-5
once I caught a fish alive
5, 4, 3-2-1
And so the clock ticked down.
And the children
and the children's children
the so many children
that the old woman
(who lived in a shoe)
didn't know what to do with
they grew hot and cold
and they drew together –
tight, like a bundled knot of thread
- and then pulled back
taut, strained, split, frayed
when it got too much
and they wanted to be
alone
like the one little one left in the bed
They rolled over and over
and couldn't stop
as still the clock ticked down
5, 4, 3-2-1
There are no nursery rhymes for this feeling
as atish-oo, atish-oo
they all fall
Because I knew an old woman
who caught a bug.
Perhaps she'll die
And she did.
So I suspect what they say
about magpies
may not be true.
For I'm certain I saw
two black and white birds
flying
up above...
And there is no abundance of joy to be found here.
