Her eyes are ice water and hell.
a devil’s handmaid dressed in her
bleakest Sunday best to pass judgement
as if it was holy sacrament.
A black crow of the highest disorder.
she carry’s her book of gossip straight
to the altar and opens her tongue
to foul every prayer.
It is what it is, but never should be.
A thousand hymns can’t be unsung
or sermons lead when there’s no reason to follow.
Her tar feathers can’t teach anyone how to fly.
