Inspired by the Irish folktale “The Changeling,” collected by Lady Wilde (Oscar Wilde’s mother)
Fairies walk like the tinkle of wind chimes,
their wings guiding them through the world
like a hand on the back of a dancer,
so no human would expect a fairy’s baby to be ugly,
not that the humans had given a moment’s thought
to the fairy babies, far away under the hill,
when humans had their own concerns
and their own baby, so new and pink and tight and perfect,
sleeping quiet as a hiding hare,
silent, even when the strangers entered the cabin,
brazen as you please, and sat by the fire.
Once, twice, three times, the baby’s desperate mother
tried to send them away, but magic weighed her down
like a blanket, left her flush with angry sleep.
By the time she had come to herself,
her husband was chasing the crone away
and some other baby had his hairy knuckles
wrapped around the top of the wooden crib.
When he gave them a startling grin and held his arms up,
they screamed and sobbed, only too relieved to give him
to his mother-fairy when she came knocking.
If the exchange had gone differently,
if fairy babies were more sleek than unsightly,
would they have cocked their heads
and marveled that their baby was more beautiful
than they remembered,
bewildered,
but pleased?
—
Tabatha Yeatts is a poet, author, and blogger, as well as the editor of the popular IMPERFECT and IMPERFECT II anthologies for middle schoolers. Tabatha lives with her family in Maryland. https://www.tabatha-yeatts.com/