Night Approaches

The night creeps like spiders,

Fear the web of the many legged beast!

The howls of men burn like fires,

They burn the witches of the high priest.

Lightning caws, the winds unwavered,

Murmurs vanquished in thunder sheets.

She cries objection in her own favor,

But ignoble lords embrace conceits.

The conceits of gods — a certain gaze,

Robes of justice blindly adjudicate,

Words of salvation and the Lord’s praise,

The material world left to sanctimonious hate.

Bodies are used, abused, fester than die.

I hear her cries, overlaid with a religious albi.