A bit extreme, don’t you think?
—the house on the head, I mean.
You know: the little horizontal- striped legs
sticking out from under,
their size four ruby slippers
toes-up, as they say,
and right in the midst of
those cutsy stogey-puffin’ Munchkins.
I’m not sure I’d be in favour.
Of the house, I mean:
dropping on her like that.
Like, how would you feel?
One minute, you’re a wretched spinster
pumping along on your ecologically
efficient bicycle—
and the next, you’re a dead witch
toes-up under a fallen house.
I repeat: how would you feel?
Like, it’s not as if you were
a cigar- chomping red-neck
belching along in your pickup,
shotguns stacked in the rack behind your head.
Power to witches, I say—even evil ones!
and your little dog, too!

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About riverwriter

Poet, playwright, duplicate bridge player, website designer, cottager, husband, father, grandfather, former athlete, carpenter, computer helper for my friends, theatre designer, backstage polymath, retired teacher of highschool English, drama, art, a baritone singer in a barbershop quartet, who knows what else? wordcurrents is on Facebook: Doug also has a Facebook page, "Incognitio", related to his novels.
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