Sabbat

Picturesque Tituba, steeped in Obeah,         in a hairball swoon         leads a harangue about witches with         some of Salem's more delicate         women, obedient children.         In verdant outcrops of the imagination         fuelled by a beldame's winter fire         amid sparks that prance with devils         thru tempest gloom         covens are conjured         so they implicate other pretties         with raven hair,         arm curled, in desperation,         about the moon.         With supernatural hands extended         the sea is a wretch's bitter vinegar         pounding the little, eggshell homes         where, at twilight, a dozen village Elders         with bell and taper,         candlelight and prayer         bind parchment oaths         to envisage clandestine pacts, sabbats,         obscene sojourns.         Peculiar cat -         straw hat,         thatch and loft         a drop of blood sputtering         then drawn over piddling flame,         the well-intentioned righteous         demask the pain-fed frightened.         Gibbet, arm's length of braided rope -         gang-plank, gallow stairs that smirk         off into Eternity          - a lucky few strangled,         the adamant burned,         fickle apostates swum         on a ducking stool.         Ice-fire hearths -         bonfire sheaths ravishing the strong         carnival veil         along pebble-strewn trail.