Witch, or Samhain Bluesby Robert Milby
She is no witch Wife! Which She will…
Witch she is not!
Regardless of birch groves and fire pit rituals.
Victuals are hotter when cooked out on coals,
but rich soil grows better plants than stage play,
hydroponics, or speculation outside a coffeehouse,
over telephone or internet elation.
She walks out of a kingdom of halls,
Into some odd Daddy marriage,
Like so many of her sisters—merely young women.
Reads poetry! But not Plath or Sexton.
Out from Christian fundamentalism,
To university wife, nurse, prison of matrimony,
To the animus of her animal husbandry—
juvenile urge dressed in tangibles of tenure;
gullible victim of censure, she bursts the mainframe of suburban slavery,
and takes up with a would-be tenor—
acolyte, thinner in years than the drears of the padded pedagogue,
but not anymore aware of the subtleties of female needs, so they weave a demi-bourgeois cloak of invisibility by hiding in Hudson valley bohemian thought ghettos,
and claim psychic, pop pagan preeminence, by memorizing the countenance of Crowley’s works, and some wiccan dilution, cover with alcohol and other intoxicants,
like spiritual mendicants at Jim Jones’ commune in 1978.
Weave! Weaver! Wivern driver to groves of lies where no young folks will fornicate,
As they should to desecrate the hours of stoking wood
In a large hearth where the only cinders visible
On Monday morning, will be the remnants of the cremated corpse
Of wasted Time!
Yet who am I to judge the young poet
Who can see into dimensions of indoctrination,
And unlike every other young person born
around the bonfire of the Reagan administration, who spent the breasts of corporate investiture, in perspicuous clarity, She was untouched because charity
Of ancestral spirits bestowed her with freedom and information
Which others of her materialistic, herding generation
Could not have possibly possessed!
Samhain’s ghosts surround her petty circle, grinning, sneering—
Threatening snow or burning to blow gusts of retribution for her encroachment,
For after all, she is not the rightful owner of these acres!
© Robert Milby (October 30, 2005)
