Shotsie

Long flaxen hair
lifted from the boxes of christmas
past, each bundle put on the tree
the golden strands connecting
me to my past self,
like those telephones of cups
and string, practicing telepathy.

And I found out something of great
importance from my snot-nosed self:
you see Nana had a cyclops dog
with one creepy eye that would stare at you
like one of the fates,
gasping and growling with prescience
and asthma, and I was terrified
of this omen-bringer.

but one day I put my ear close to hear
what the ancient oracle had to say,
she whispered to me in rough iron words:
"Speckled adder and ebony crow
you will walk a path where none else go,
through skeletons wet with mourning dew,
you will become what you never wanted to."