Once upon a time in an obscure, European principality,
there reigned sterling, silver-haired King Kudzu,
who, due to his massive growth,
crowded out all the kingdom’s flora.

He had 12 beautiful daughters:
Pansy & Tansy,
who were a bit prissy,
whose smell no one could match,
Poppy & Posey,
who were interchangeable,
who was one letter short of violent,
Ivy & Iris,
who liked to climb walls & change colours,
whose petals often got plucked by lovestruck youngsters,
Lily & Lotus,
who didn’t do much,
& Belladonna,
who felt above it all,
being four syllables tall.

They all had hair of copper or gold,
their skin bronzed by the sun from the courtyard
that was their only contact with the natural world.

As King Kudzu grew,
he raised his motherless daughters in the castle,
grooming them—
in their solitary confinement & disciplinary refinement—
to become nuns in the local convent.

But then Father Jackson Fitzpatrick Kennedy—
a handsome devil of a weed—
came & came often,
fertilizing the King’s diverse garden.
His potent seed,
stored up for so long,
caused each bloom to produce after her own kind;
for King Kudzu had assumed that the birds & bees speech
would’ve been common knowledge among his daughters,
they being plants.

The King,
enraged at the mass-pollination,
tossed the Father into the cathedral dungeon,
defrocked & denatured,
while his daughters each bore a son,
each son becoming a father
of one of the Twelve Tribes of a New Israel,
where they lived so-so happily ever after—
these sons of single motherhood.

Moral of the story: Children are better off with both parents, in case one of them is crazy.



Once upon a time in Nantucket,
there were two brothers—
Joe, the Jacob,
Brian, the Esau;
borne of a mother
who was like a distant star,
and a father who was simply lost in space,
careworn down by time.

There were two goddesses,
Helen with her cello
and Cassandra called Casey—
Helen, who found her way,
Casey, losing herself along it.
The day would come each would
go the way of one of the brothers,
but only Joe and Helen would endure.

There was the artful Mechanic,
the merry Widow,
the unlucky Immigrant,
the female Flyer—
like little charms on an island necklace,
but only two would stay,
for two would go.

In the fantasy world known as Tom Nevers field,
there was the lone David,
known as Sandpiper Air,
and Aeromass—
the seven air devils run by Goliath.

And it was during that time,
not so long before the towers fell,
when airports were the first stop to fun times elsewhere—
the last stop before that place that was like no other—
that this fairy tale was encapsulated,
so that nothing ugly could touch it.

And it was in Nantucket
that the Pilot and the Cellist,
through loves won for a time,
through others lost forever,
lived happily ever after.