Witches by figharo
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Description
I see witches idling at Starbucks,
they're devouring pieces of fresh, pink meat
sandwiched in sourdough bread
They've forsaken their broomsticks and their warts,
their wands and their familiars,
but I see the old magic
Tendrilous black curls metamorph into vipers
and frame the fearful symmetry of unbowed heads,
ruby lips strain
against crooked, orange teeth
stained with unbaptized blood,
slime covered tongues
squirm in moist, fleshy confines
and move like toads swimming in chocolate pudding
I'd shy away from their green, Salicylic acid eyes
lest I be turned turned into a pillar of salt,
but guess what;
I like my meat spiced...
Comments (5)
ronmolina
Nice!
jocko500
cool poem . I do not go to Starbucks, also
Cyve
Excelent !
helanker
Really fine poem, Edward :-)
Wolfenshire
Well done, gives me a fresh outlook on starbucks.