, , , , , , , ,

Can you hear the soft cries
carried in the wind tonight?
Can you feel the chill set in
in the cottage upon a lonely hill?
Can you hear the fire crackle
inside the old sooty oven?
And there be a gentle girl stirring something foul
her leg harnessed with iron and bound.
She sniffles and she sobs
every now and then with a glance
towards the cagey room
where chubby, her brother morns
the untimely tragedy about to unfold.
‘Can you not do anything, Sister?’ he asked small,
and with some force kicked the metal bars.
The little girl thought and thought
of how scared the old hag is of pigs
wild and uncaged
and so she sets about to make a gingerbread pig
muddy and all.
She stirs and she stirs till she can’t stir anymore.