* * * * *
The Myth Unmasked
A Poem of Honorable Deception
Past midnight
And she glides silently
Through the sleeper's door
Like a ghost.
Her spidery hands
Reach
With a pickpocket's stealth
To take the smallest part
Of the child.
Something is gone
Replaced by a small tribute
To commerce,
Like a deposit
Against the years,
Awaiting discovery
Under the pillow.
Her covert act is kept secret
For ten thousand dawns;
Until the night
When her feeble hands
Lift
The box hidden away
In the nightstand
Where baby teeth
Are like small white stones;
Each
A mother's memory of
Toothless grins.
