dans le mois d'octobre
elle va retourner
there they come
crashing through the billowous linen
with terrified, fiery eyes
and such screams!
The strong male voices yelling in dischord
and the females' insane and and haunting cries

She is awoke in the middle of the night
by some demon visions and horrible
true night mares
(the spindly black shoes waving in the air
insupportable to their weight)
and it's the fault of a poem-
the world spins!
my daughters of Eve
the world spins and
she falls