salem siege

salem is a place i have
spent lifetimes fleeing
so it feels strange to return here
without fear of persecution.
salem – salem siege.

and even mccarthy’s breath
ran out at some stage
but his words shifted mountains
to the likeness of his brows.
judgmental.

and though once i fled salem,
now i return to it
witch-hunted by whispers of
“enfant – enfant terrible”
(or so I wish; it would mean
that i am not alone with this)

and honey no government official
is gonna cross my land
– not me with my rifle
not ever.

and salem ain’t – isn’t – like that anymore.
now it’s a safe haven from the rest of the world.
and for the moment i am alone here,
abandoned citadel-keeper, steward of the fire-escape,
this pen & paper my only link to you.

i don’t want to stop writing.
but there’s the scent of rain in the air
and the oncoming storm will require
both of my hands.

a/n: that will teach me to go to restaurants with a notebook with which to write down stray thoughts. i am not even kidding in this, just the way that i was not kidding in levee on masse. heavens – that someone, anybody, would do something. though i am a fine one to talk. just to write, and to wish. blame the mccarthy reference on modern history and the topic i chose for my assignment. blame the enfant terrible on my sudden lack of French poetry. fire-escape is for, once again, glass menagerie. i have no idea where the government official part came from, except perhaps from the cover of tori’s boys for pele, my incensed hatred unto the government, and bolt’s Texan accent.