General Poetry posted April 18, 2016


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Witches of Highfield

by kiwisteveh



Not a cauldron in sight,
nor a broomstick.
Perhaps the odd black cat
or clipped white poodle,
as a familiar.

This coven meets for coffee
and dispenses its evil
over jam scones
and gingernuts.

Poison drips
through made-up lips
and seasons the cucumber sandwiches.
Spells and incantations
fall
on hapless victims
(those who couldn't come today)

"Did you hear...?"
"She didn't"
"Who told you?"
"What did she say then?"

Bubble, bubble,
coffee brews
and with it
faint praise and cool,
stabbing words,
said and unsaid.
Effigies crucified.

"That was nice."
"When shall we meet again?"

 

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Mental note to self - make sure the mother-in-law never gets to see this one. She lives in Highfield Way!
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