|Throw another cat on the fire Reverend Schreier
Author: Faithless Juliet PM
The boys stay in their bedrooms chanting psalms over newly cracked eggshells. January WCCRated: Fiction K+ - English - Poetry - Words: 366 - Reviews: 4 - Published: 01-06-11 - Status: Complete - id: 2879947
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Throw another cat on the fire Reverend Schreier
The rule is that witches float in the fish-laced pond water of the hierarchy of Jerusalem City –
She will float
inside the splinters of each New Salem
cropping up in the New World like folk tales about apple seeds.
The rule is a witch will always shutter when you touch her,
as though warmth were stranger, touch,
an illustrious illusion once betook from her
in the deepest nightgowns of Satan's curtained Tartarus.
The rule is a witch is often such to have spurned another,
either through miscalculated sexuality or the cheating of
ones ancestral land from the hieroglyphic caricatures
of purgatory reprinted on the posters of a modern bedroom scene
in which you image yourself significantly more weighted then you in fact are (in actuality).
The rule is a witch will always have a familiar to do her bidding -
a creature of insignificant substance to perform her undoing's
and deeds in the depths of the night, or (as the rule states) she will
metamorphosis into a spectral reoccurrence, rehashing singular celluloid
flesh to bring her antimatter into your bedroom at night, into your
mouth at night, into your body like a poison, you will awaken
to her inflammatory obstinacy in the pit of your stomach
like a drug your decadences can only dream about -
The New World is a rule all its own
and the quips of your pugnacious feline counterparts shrivel
in the face of her masters bidding.
Burn the cat
burn the girl
the townspeople will rule in favor of puritanical practicality
and the righteousness of Gods relative wisdom -
the rule is that God
opens his smooth palm
and in the folds of his
flesh you can often view
Christ while bent on the cross,
hear the last ten breaths
as they pass through his cracked
The Reverend will show reverence to no one,
the boys stay in their bedrooms chanting psalms
over newly cracked eggshells, the yokes of each
drip down their fists in excitement for the
stocking of the flames.
Throw another cat on the fire,
burn the metaphor
burn the girl.
a/n: written for the january wcc