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Writer's pictureShannon Barter

AN ODE TO THE JOANSES

I sulk around in my Kaftan

Chain smoking catastrophic visions

One after the other the ash tray fills

Catastrophe in one hand; ash hanging from the tip

Ice cube tinkling glass in the other; disasters filled to the brim

I only partake after 5

 

Through clenched lips and grinding teeth

The crackling visions ignite with each inhale

The deep thud of each paced step

Drowns out the faint calls through the darkness

Way down the dark wooded path

Tree branch silhouettes tunnel overhead

 

They Call, I call

Witches, witches, witches

Where are my fellow witches?

Speak

Demand

Hoping they'll answer

I ask into the darkness

Does burning wool hurt less than melting polyester?

I want to know what to wear

 

The mad cycle was cast long ago

Steadily sinking

Down, Down, Down

Down dark alleys and darker facades

Of cinched waisted oppression

Coifed and vapid souls

Silently crying with a perfect smile

 

I hear a call from out in the darkness

Way down that dark wooded path

At first a murmur, steadily growing into a roar

We will not go gently into that night

We will not go at all

Fear the pigtailed dragon

You cannot, nor will not, slay us

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