1. Fairies

    You can’t see fairies unless you’re good.
    That’s what Nurse said to me.
    They live in the smoke of the chimney,
    Or down in the roots of a tree;
    They brush their wings on a tulip,
    Or hide behind a pea.

    But you can’t see fairies unless you’re good,
    So they aren’t much use to me.

    By Marchette Gaylord Chute

     
  2. To Levitate…

    My mother swears she saw
    my baby brother rise from his cot
    one stormy night when
    we were living upstate.

    She was awake, checking the shutters,
    when she saw him levitate,
    a foot or more, covers rising
    with him the way they do

    in carnival shows, so you don’t see
    the wires. But, he lay soft and pliant,
    a floater, weightless as
    a shadow on the wall.

    "Something in the air," Mother said,
    because she believed in such things,
    and reminded us often that most
    children know how to fly.

    And I do remember running down a hillside,
    breathless, the ground rising to meet me,
    my heart lifting my blood
    so effortlessly

    I knew that if I stepped out onto the air
    that it would hold me.
    I may even have done it
    without realizing

    how easy it is, before doubt takes hold
    and weds you to the ground.
    Odd that we should forget
    such things.

    Odd, too, when I tell the story
    how no one believes exactly,
    but the room gets quiet
    and everyone listens.


    By Cathryn Essinger

     
  3. Circe’s Power

    I never turned anyone into a pig.
    Some people are pigs;
    I make them Look like pigs.

    I’m sick of your world
    That lets the outside disguise the inside. Your men weren’t bad men;
    Undisciplined life
    Did that to them. As pigs,

    Under the care of
    Me and my ladies,
    they Sweetened right up.

    Then I reversed the spell, showing you my goodness
    As well as my power. I saw
    We could be happy here,
    As men and women are
    When their needs are simple. In the same breath,

    I foresaw your departure,
    Your men with my help braving
    The crying and pounding sea. You think

    A few tears upset me? My friend,
    Every sorceress is
    A pragmatist at heart; nobody sees essence who can’t
    Face limitation. If I wanted only to hold you

    I could hold you prisoner.


    By Louise Glück