In a fairy tale
the gods would snatch you out
through the navel or the thigh of your goddess
or by some Caesarian operation
and so you would come out
complete with armoury:
bows and arrows, quiver and Kerrie
to become a hunter, lover, husband and father.
Even if the goddess died
in the end the miracle would live
in the ears and minds of keen children
huddled around an evening fire
listening to the story of a young god.
But now in this new world
what god would save your mother
and who would pluck you out of a virgin birth
and could you be born with boots and pen
or with an AK or germ factory or A-bomb
and what race of kids would listen tear-ridden
as your miracle was told by what surviving raconteur?
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem