She was born with a caul--
Born with a tail--
Mama took her out,
And set her on the rails.
Down the tracks--
Through the rain--
Come the morning mail train.
chucka chucka chucka chucka...
Twister on the tracks--
Split the mail sacks--
Postman and the porter
Put the letters back.
Through the trees--
Up ahead--
Baby in her burlap bed.
chucka chucka chucka chucka...
Coyotes come and chew her free--
Carry her up the hillside--
She growed up silent by the rails,
But grinned when Mama died.
_______
Feral babies--don't trust em, unless of course, you're feral too. I think I detect the influence of that prominent post-modern existentialist voice, the celebrated Ms. CoalBlack. (Don't feel bad, she's everywhere.)
ReplyDeleteA grisly, yet strangely charming tale.
well i was singing right along to the chuga chugas cause i just love trains...the last stanza though my voice cracked and i dont have enough super glue to put it back together...
ReplyDeleteWow! *Applause*! I think I'll save this one and read to Tyler before he goes to sleep tonight :-)
ReplyDeletechucka chucka chucka... choo choo!
ReplyDeleteTalk about wicked baby mama drama.
Just goes to show how unloved things get their revenge. Love the chukkas. This is my last poem of my very long day, and I purposely ended here. Always a pleasure to read you, friend!
ReplyDeleteI love the rhythm of this poem...It's so whimsical and dark at the same time.
ReplyDeleteLove the rhythm, love the rhyme, you manage to do it, every time! Great stuff shay. ;-)
ReplyDeletemust say...very interesting indeed...very interesting read...
ReplyDeleteAn interesting ballad. I was born with a "Caul" I am a Caulbearer.
ReplyDeleteAlways enjoy reading your work Shay.
Anita.
as well she should.
ReplyDeleteVery intriguing.
ReplyDeleteBabies like that are supposed to always be safe from drowning, according to deep sea fisherman!
ReplyDeleteGotta love those coyotes! I love "she growed up silent by the rails". And oh, that evil Mama!
ReplyDeleteDo I detect some "issues" with Mother? (said with a Viennese accent, of course!) As always, an intriguing and wonderful read!
ReplyDeleteIt has a wonderful rhythm...
ReplyDeleteHere is my One Shot:
gost of a rose
chucka chucka .. I'm grinning too
ReplyDeleteYeah, I detected some Coal dust sprinkled here. You gals must have been born joined at the tooth. No mama likes a feral baby, but some kids are just born to be wild. So thanks for packing this one off. - Brendan
ReplyDeleteOoh, a real gotcha. Just enough words, just the right rhythm, folding us into the dirt of life, the queer satisfaction we don't admit of knowing the demise of a betrayer.
ReplyDeleteTouche...
always something different, always something original and always worth reading ..cheers pete
ReplyDeletePretty sure I laid down the railroad tracks for that feral baby! Wicked, Shay.
ReplyDeleteLove it, love it, love it!
ReplyDeleteWow! I love the simplicity and rhythm of this rhyme!
ReplyDeleteBorn with a caul always with the gift of foresight! Yep, she knew her mama early! Well done, as always. Loved it! Gay
ReplyDeleteThis is an aspect of your work I'm not familiar with-- dark! But good! xj
ReplyDeleteWow! You and Brian are so musical today. I was really groovin' with the story. Those chukka chukkas are so cool. Awesome, vivid tale.
ReplyDeleteLoved this ... mail car reference is great.
ReplyDeletethose crazy ass ankle biters are at it again. Strong words, strong rhythm, strong voice shay
ReplyDelete