Witch Way

Does God really favor the lost?

Which way?

The way of stars shorn and cast away,

The way of lovers and revenge.

She hurts him as one steps on a shadow

Without knowing, in a state of sorrow

That renders her mad.

Her hesitations surrender to futility.

A choice between one death and another

One painless if not for satellites

One inescapable given the volume

Of her desires. Her music has a density

That crushes all who come near

Should she die others will follow.

She settles into a bed of wallpaper

Expectant but noncommittal.

Bone shavings cling to

Her unsteady vowels.

She writes sad poems

To an audience

That has substituted is for if,

To a world of anonymous doors

And falsely named occupants.

She exists within us all

Unfindable but never lost.