Tramps are the fairytales of the city
thinly disguised threats, grinning
teeth over my pram

I train myself in just
being nice, I train myself
in smiling thoughts

But a child, my child
will not kiss a pocked toad
or vagrant prince

no matter how true it may be
that evil fairies, old queens
witches, hungry giants, and wolves

only are my fear
of empty, exhausted love
Only are my fear