Little Wren by Erica Sternin

Arthur_Rackham_Little_Red_Riding_Hood

Arthur_Rackham_Little_Red_Riding_Hood

Remember when the wolf crossed his big hairy leg
and leered, “come hither little wren”
and meekly you did?

Remember when you-thought-you-could-you-thought-you-could-you-thought-you-could
pull a great load of toys to the spoiled boys and girls
on the other side of the tracks?

Remember Tootle? Insouciant youth, cavorting in meadows
with the cows. As an elder, he taught you:
“Stay on the tracks, no matter what.”

Remember the tender-handed princesses?
You were the one who picked endless nettles,
Weaving shirts for your twelve brothers, who were swans.

Remember the witch in the dancing house
with chicken legs? She eats little girls
who ask the wrong questions.

Remember the Little Red Hen who said, “enough!”
to her friends, the dog, the cat and the mouse?
No more. Enough.

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