After I was born
My mother left my cradle
For just a moment.
That’s when Loki came and
Whispered in my ear.
He said:
“I’ll split your tongue
Whilst you sleep so that you may
Charm your way into doors
Otherwise hidden to you.
I’ll paint a glint into your eye
Because all it takes is a single spark
To ignite a fire in the hearts
Of a thousand people.
I’ll plant these seeds
Just beneath your shoulder blades
So that when you rise — it might be
Minutes or decades from now
Wings will sprout from your back.
But here, quick, child,
You must put your hand
Upon my palm if you choose
Such gifts. Your mother,
She will return and shoo me
Back into the darkness
From whence I came.
After all,
That is exactly what mothers
Do best.”
Sure enough,
My mother returned,
Shouting at the shadow standing
Over the cradle and shouted,
“Away with you!”
Loki leaped through the window
Disappearing into the velvet sky.
Mother picked held me closely
But what she didn’t see
Was that my left palm was stained
Redder than the setting sun.
Far beyond the window
In this home in Chicago
Loki whispered again,
“Now, son, that you are a troublemaker
Just as I am a troublemaker
The doors of heaven
Have shut permanently to you.
But the jewels of the earth
Are yours.”
It’s been decades now
And the troublemaking glint
Is still awake in my smiling eyes
Along with that wicked tongue
But those wings, I have yet to see
Those goddamn wings
Sprout just yet.
D.H. Lee
(via Swanksalot, of Swanksalot himself)