Miss Julie and Her Children

Miss Julie had some children

With an actor

From Bulgaria

He wasn’t a very good actor

And he left his family

To run off with another woman

While Julie and her children

Nearly starved to death

On the streets

As luck would have it

An ad on a torn-off sheet of paper

Fluttered by the alleyway

Where Julie and her children slept

And it caught her eye

‘Hard Working Farmer

Seeks Wife’

What a stroke of luck, eh?

Miss Julie woke her children up

And they began the long walk

To the farmer’s property

Twenty or so miles

Outside of the city

When they arrived

One of the children was sick with fever

And another was barely conscious

Miss Julie herself was a fright

And she realized as she took

The two or three steps

To the farmer’s front door

That she had no idea

When the ad was posted

For all she knew

The farmer could have found a wife already

And she and her children

Would surely lose their lives

Right here at his doorstep

But when she knocked on the door

She found it to be not just unlocked

But ajar

And it swung open

Without much trouble at all

Her immediate concern

Being the health of her children

She hurried them inside

And was relieved to find

Ample food in the pantry

And warm bedding

So they could rest

She called out to see

If the farmer was home

But when her call went unreturned

She gathered that he must be

Out in the fields for the day

And she decided that there was nothing to be done

But to clean and cook

And prepare the house

So that when he returned

He would be instantly smitten

With his new wife and her little tribe

But dinner was prepared

And no owner arrived

To greet his new spouse

Night fell, and Miss Julie

Put her children to bed

She sat by the front window

A glass of something by her side

And wished for a cigarette

But couldn’t locate one

In any of the drawers

She did, however, find a knife

The door she kept ajar

Just as she had found it
But she lit no candles

And sat in the darkest corner

Of the farmer’s living room

Holding the knife

Tightly in her fist

Hours passed

And the whispers of the country

Wound their way

Into the little farmhouse

While Miss Julie lifted her skirt

To relieve herself

Right there on the floor

Years ago, a man had given her

The means to end her time

The only way a woman can

But she had refused

Returning to him

Blade in hand

And with no emotion at all

Cut a thin line

Right across his throat

That was the day she left home

Convinced that it was just a matter

Of how fast she could outrun

Her finest attributes

Before they dissolved

But her feet are tired

And there won’t be

Any more running

When a knife is in your hand

And three children are sleeping soundly

In a stranger’s bed

There are only so many ways

To escape

That don’t require blood

Miss Julie waits for the sun to come up

And as she does

She hears something

Not inside the house

And not outside it

But from within it

A waking

And she understands

There and then

That the knife won’t be

Enough