The smoke of a sombre witch asked
the smoke in an earthly wish,
“Are you my home?”
Her smoldering protected a bee in entangled berries of
nutritional wild grasses. Unconsumed by a heron
whistling to a juicy beetle nestling and with no
sexual arousal of course,
“Why do you need an earthly wish?”
That answer is like prying clams open on a savage shoreline.
(the apple snails hide among the heroic water hyacinths’,
they know better)
The answer is like the shiny orbs of a spider behind a web.
Just before a cocktail is splashed in its face.
The sound full love making prayers are absorbed in each
others ever-bite-able throats. Did you hear it?
Let the smoke of the sombre witch
sing her name over you and
clash with you.
right below the bees skimming the water of