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.
