They burned a witch on holy day;
potions found under the awnings of her house,
with poppets and poesies,
pins and pinches.
They cheered the flames blackening her calves
and watched fire burst the confines of her dress,
displaying to them what they did not see;
her truer sin.
For as she screamed at the stake,
molten desire pooled beneath her
and hissed on the
• • • • •
Written for Day 4 of National Poetry Writing Month/#NaPoWriMo.