"Found in the Cabbage Patch."
You know, the French are supposed
to tell their children, when they
ask Mommy, where did I come from, they're supposed to say,
you were found in the cabbage patch.
And I never understood why.
I was brought up on the stork, myself.
But I did understand it when we first planted cabbage,
and I saw those green heads, which really
looked like babies' heads.
"The shiny head is round, full term,
between the spread leaves of its mother.
I come as the midwife, a kitchen knife in my hand.
There.
No lusty cry, this child is silent.
Two white moths hover and flutter, milky attendants
in perpetual motion.
I leave the mother's wound for the sun to heal.
The stump of the newborn dries in the crook of my arm.
I am the witch cradling the pale green head, murmuring,
'little one, you look good enough to eat.'"
[QUIET LAUGHTER]