witch

 

 

 

   As the poet. Much

   is made of the

   inspiration from

   witches.But to

   examine their

   ovum closer one

   will find no

   fairness shared

   among them;

   their wank of

   tears stiff as

   a Hindu headdress.

   Unusually humble

   and tacid, their

   laxity is easily

   spotted. My

   grandmother told

   me a story of one

   found hiding under

   her stilted house

   that her father had

   to shoo away with

   petition, broken

   broomhandles and

   smoke.

 

 

   Funny, isn't it.When

   I ask the witch I know

   to craft shame for

   the diabolist, she often

   complys.Or to turn

   her hair into woven

   hives, gold ships for

   Her Majesty's silver,

   still no problem. Or

   even to gather hogs-heads,

   black pepper and

   resolution for our new

   cheese; why not,

   she answers.But

   when I ask for the

   sac that holds

   Whitmans eye,

   his lower jaw lip-reading

   but not alone, I am

   summoned to the war

   gate where he still

   sits

   changing the bandages

   of young boys,

   already dead.

Reviews

[Emily B]

oh, how did I miss this one? you slipped it in when i wasn't looking maybe, or it was bewitched and only just now became visible

I spend a lot of time in the 1860s and read Whitman's account of nursing once, I hated his poetry when I first met it, but if there was a man I could meet out of time and history, it might be him