Salem's Spirits

Greatness strides down through her hair

Eager hearts go chasing after

Dark minds keep solemn watch

As a rope drapes from the rafters.

Blue flesh and purple lips

Listless eyes and cold stiff toes

A man of cloth recites in earnest

A selfish prayer of stunted prose.

This murder of crows that’s gathered here

Stands by in wait to see it’s done

They gloat in glee and flaunt their feathers

In this demise - the day is won.

By tomorrow another will come

Found by many with accusatory tongue

Without a witness to their name

The deal is struck, the rope re-strung.