BABA

Someday this baby will be

Baba Yaga and live in a hut

That struts on chicken legs.

She'll be so strong that 

When the hut grows tired

She'll roll up her sleeves 

And carry it. Be kind to her 

While she's still small. Someday

She'll smoke a short, foul pipe 

That never goes out and be

A sorceress who'll need to be

Three witches, two goddesses

And the Lady Mayoress of Minsk

To do everything that needs doing.

The ghost of high school principal 

Leonard J. Fliedner will visit her 

To chop wood and drink tea

With spoonfuls of jelly dissolved in it

From tall chipped glasses. By then, 

She'll be taking over poems

Never meant to be about her.