I SAW THE WITCH :
UNDER ARREST
The witch was ambidextrous - stirring fire
with either arm. Nothing harmed her, neither
the fire nor the heat. Above her head, in a swelling
drone, a feathery presence, the blackbird stayed,
staring in place. Their thoughts seems merged
together. Each of her fingertips, I then noticed,
bore a tiny flame - protruding out from it, some point
ignited by her mind. The fine settled fir trees behind
her, rippled by the warm wind, shimmied as they
shook - the same motion, the same gait. There
was an obvious oneness to her rhythm with the
world. A gargoyle like a goat, or a wart-faced hag;
either description would have fit the scene well.
No comments:
Post a Comment