Salem Serenade.
1/25/2011
Salem Serenade.
Hanging on the branches of death lies a whisper,
bound by twine & bundled up with satchets of hate.
Stench haunts the air.
Foggy residue long locked away in fear of its name getting out.
Now in full view: a horrorshow spectacle, tatters of it blown by the cruel wind.
Bony fingers pointing at one another.
Watery, blameful eyes shimmering, rapt with greying hurt & foul praise.
Arching wood holding up this decaying body of love.
Sin is on display here.
Furious forceful reckoning for all to see.
And yet there is no sin in this “strange fruit”;
limp from a haggard war of words fought & won by way of blood.
Such grotesque is merely a mirror reflecting back on those below; where mercy clangs
with an empty din.
Behold, clamoring crowds hunger for a wicked taste of retribution, by no means aware
that the ugly they lust after lurks deep within
their very own cold coal hearts.
---S.K.L. ©2011