deepundergroundpoetry.com
Lizzie
1
The first ghost story I heard
was told in the playground, when I
was eight or nine. It was called Lizzie,
and about a woman of that name
who kills her newborn and hides it in
a closet under the stairs.
(My house had such a closet,
so this became the scene.)
Several years passed,
apparently without
degradations of the flesh
that would make the child in the closet
reveal itself.
But one night as she dozed
Lizzie heard a voice at the foot of the stairs.
‘Lizzie... I’m on the first step...’
She ignored this.
(Of tough stock, was Lizzie,
or simply odd. Who knows
what’s wrong
with a woman who buries
her baby among
the Monopoly boards
and vacuum heads?)
Two hours pass.
‘Lizzie... I’m on the eighth step...’
Our maiden of infanticide keeps mum.
The storyteller here affects
a sing-song voice:
‘Lizzie... I’m on the twelfth step,
I’m on the landing,
I’m in your brother’s room...’
Lizzie falls asleep.
(I told you she was odd.)
The next day she thinks
to check on her brother
and finds him in his own closet,
anything but gay.
He’s hanging from the rail
with a coat-hanger thrust
through his forehead.
2
The ending always puzzled me.
Why a coat-hanger?
It seemed like such a weird non-sequitur.
But sharing the story with you
I suddenly get it.
What more cliched symbol of abortion
is there? Lizzie killed her baby.
Did she, maybe, do it with a coat-hanger?
Again, who knows? By the time I was eight
or nine and being told the story by
another kid, it had been flattened out
so only its basics remained:
woman, baby, closet, stairs, hanger
Stripped of motivation, too,
it seemed like just a mystery.
Only now I’m grown, does it seem as if
the story’s ghost was mere misogyny.
The first ghost story I heard
was told in the playground, when I
was eight or nine. It was called Lizzie,
and about a woman of that name
who kills her newborn and hides it in
a closet under the stairs.
(My house had such a closet,
so this became the scene.)
Several years passed,
apparently without
degradations of the flesh
that would make the child in the closet
reveal itself.
But one night as she dozed
Lizzie heard a voice at the foot of the stairs.
‘Lizzie... I’m on the first step...’
She ignored this.
(Of tough stock, was Lizzie,
or simply odd. Who knows
what’s wrong
with a woman who buries
her baby among
the Monopoly boards
and vacuum heads?)
Two hours pass.
‘Lizzie... I’m on the eighth step...’
Our maiden of infanticide keeps mum.
The storyteller here affects
a sing-song voice:
‘Lizzie... I’m on the twelfth step,
I’m on the landing,
I’m in your brother’s room...’
Lizzie falls asleep.
(I told you she was odd.)
The next day she thinks
to check on her brother
and finds him in his own closet,
anything but gay.
He’s hanging from the rail
with a coat-hanger thrust
through his forehead.
2
The ending always puzzled me.
Why a coat-hanger?
It seemed like such a weird non-sequitur.
But sharing the story with you
I suddenly get it.
What more cliched symbol of abortion
is there? Lizzie killed her baby.
Did she, maybe, do it with a coat-hanger?
Again, who knows? By the time I was eight
or nine and being told the story by
another kid, it had been flattened out
so only its basics remained:
woman, baby, closet, stairs, hanger
Stripped of motivation, too,
it seemed like just a mystery.
Only now I’m grown, does it seem as if
the story’s ghost was mere misogyny.
Published 13th Jun 2021
| Edited 14th Jun 2021
Author's Note
The story of Lizzie is real, as in it really was a story told to me when I was a kid. I still remember being in the playground, at my primary school, wondering how strong you’d have to be to thrust a coat-hanger through somebody’s forehead. I’d give a fair bit to know the origins of that story, though it was probably taken from a film or some such thing. The coat-hanger/abortion symbolism suggests that it does have roots somewhere, and wasn’t just nonsense made up on a spur.
The name Lizzie is also suggestive. A murderous woman whose family members die? That’s just Lizzie Borden, isn’t it? The American woman who “took an axe and gave her mother forty whacks.” (“Then she hid behind a door and gave her father forty more.”) I vaguely remember picking up that rhyme in school.
The name Lizzie is also suggestive. A murderous woman whose family members die? That’s just Lizzie Borden, isn’t it? The American woman who “took an axe and gave her mother forty whacks.” (“Then she hid behind a door and gave her father forty more.”) I vaguely remember picking up that rhyme in school.
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15th Jun 2021 3:42am
I remember hearing about Lizzie Borden before reading about her. Wasn't there a movie too? I think so. It's been lifetimes, it seems. Shook me up!
This was a great narrative piece. It drew me in and kept me engaged all the way through. I've never heard this story before, so had no idea how it would end.
Ugh. A clothes hanger. Irony is, I thought exactly what you did: how strong would you have to be. . .
This was a great narrative piece. It drew me in and kept me engaged all the way through. I've never heard this story before, so had no idea how it would end.
Ugh. A clothes hanger. Irony is, I thought exactly what you did: how strong would you have to be. . .
