bluebeard

I followed the path on the old weathered map with the
abnormally elaborate compass rose
the ‘N’ a tangle in briars and thorns,
soon,
I came to a room
the sign on the door said “Bluebeard’s Closet”
I turned the dingy knob with a chill
knowing just what to expect
but found only a few wire hangers looking lonesome.

the faerie tales from my side of the world
viewed with curiosity and suspicion,
are dead here,

diffused, empty,
they are all rendered impotent by Asia
land of shiny crows and Buddhas
fox weddings and kappa dragging kids to the bottoms of rivers,
dragons and sun goddesses eclipse
Pandora and Cinderella,
Rapunzel and Persephone

a black cat crossed my path today,
and somehow I knew that the bad luck
spread by it, did not exist here
I rolled over its invisible path with careless
tires, but I don’t whistle after dark because in
Japan it brings snakes.