Telling One From the Other

There are countless stories about a child 
who, one night, is spirited from its home. 

One moment clean-cheeked and fleecy in the crib, 
the next inconsolable and prone to howling at the moon

as it rends its hair. In whatever language, they call it
changeling, and use its spectre as well as that 

of whatever took it from its bower to threaten children 
into docile behavior. I don't feel I was one though sometimes 

I've wondered. Is it only because such a change might have taken
place as more straightforward transaction, instead of furtively? 

Whatever the case, not even three yet, I remember being
given a basket of lima beans and told to peel each one.

I remember the cool skins of pale green and how they rested 
on my palms, though not how long it took or if I finished this task.