The abacus forgets one plus one plus one,
and all the silhouetted mothers
hid under their covers.
Life at the perfect address was hard,
back then when plenty was empty
beside the crusty credit card.
And while they devised who to baptise,
with pockets out-turned,
some were burying life-long weekends, wholly unearned.
In the end, they decided on consensus
to achieve soporific effects in children –
how, proved senseless.
Bagheera fell victim to hit-and-run
that late afternoon, somewhere on the M1,
or so we’re told,
And Fairytale itself expired of a broken heart
as all the zoos across the globe were closed
in sympathy to his art.
* The title of this poem refers to a Welsh lullaby from around 1800.