Based on the Grimm fairy tale “The Devil with the Three Golden Hairs”. First published in Analogies & Allegories Literary Magazine
My demon eyelids droop. My grandma sets
my heavy head upon her lap and lets
my golden hairs cascade across her skirt.
my heavy head upon her lap and lets
my golden hairs cascade across her skirt.
Three times I wake from throbbing scalp! The hurt
enrages me—although it also grants
a golden opportunity, a chance
to hear my grandma’s dreams. I know her well
enough, but sharing dreams is how we tell
each other all our deepest, baldest thoughts.
enrages me—although it also grants
a golden opportunity, a chance
to hear my grandma’s dreams. I know her well
enough, but sharing dreams is how we tell
each other all our deepest, baldest thoughts.
Tonight she sees: a dried-up well, the knots
upon a barren tree, a boatman who
deplores his lot in life. I feel it too,
that emptiness these images reveal.
It burns me worse than headaches. Those will heal,
unlike a restless mind at its most pure.
upon a barren tree, a boatman who
deplores his lot in life. I feel it too,
that emptiness these images reveal.
It burns me worse than headaches. Those will heal,
unlike a restless mind at its most pure.
Tonight, for once, I try my best to cure
my grandma’s yearning just a little bit
(the least that I can do for one who’d sit
and stroke my head to help me sleep). I share
solutions known to me alone, out there
beyond the comforts of our dingy house:
a toad beneath a stone, a gnawing mouse,
a stranger’s hand in which to thrust an oar.
my grandma’s yearning just a little bit
(the least that I can do for one who’d sit
and stroke my head to help me sleep). I share
solutions known to me alone, out there
beyond the comforts of our dingy house:
a toad beneath a stone, a gnawing mouse,
a stranger’s hand in which to thrust an oar.
I hope I’ve helped.
She smooths my hair.
I snore.
