Nymphs

Brown hot roof tiles

Making witches simper

Flying through the sky

Like a million tap-dancing rainbows

Gangly stocking-ed legs

Creating matching red and white stripes

On already symmetrical tabby nymphs

Who wash in a liquid oxygen pool

Drying gorgeous golden curls

With five pound oyster shells

Using scorpions for combs

To prepare for fancy physics classes

In the giant run college

Where they eat hash cookies

In classrooms that line the Styx

Screaming pagans from Christian hell

Cling to the doors every day

And a sleeping wolf snores them away

Until someone says

"You're making too much noise"

Wolf wakes up – the pagans aren't swept away

They get to met the nymphs

Screwing ensues

They're nymphs, after all