Birds, Frogs, Hogs, You, Me

Angel's Flight, Vol. 3.1 (1978)

Carol Stager

I had embroidered the fable
that we were built of brick,
no straw in our story,
no crumbs to be pilfered by starlings.
If you were the youngest son.
If I were skilled at transforming frogs.
If fairies had not turned queer.

As it is, princes are slaughtered,
virgins die virgins.
The paths through our plundered forest
are endless.  Stay away!
I am here in the land of pigs
where even your breath
can blow my house in.


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