dreamed 2008/8/17 by Wayan
My sister and I go visit the Crone.
Her thatched home, low and long,
broods on an oval traffic-isle.
That gray Roraima rears a full
yard above pave. On the concrete
lip the Crone's initiates sleep.
For Crone is a witch-smeller--
Her own grandson, in his teens,
Smoggy salmon dawn-glow.
Not a snake, because my tail
Witch-Smeller looms with a foot-long knife
Overheard snake and that's enough.
A lost moan, long and low.
She says "Leave. This I do alone:
the hardest thing a mother's called to do--
kill a serpent-son."
My sister Miriel stands breast to knife!
And other Crones all over town
Witch-Smeller rants, long and low;
A few years later I visit. He's fine.
World Dream Bank homepage - Art gallery - New stuff - Introductory sampler, best dreams, best art - On dreamwork - Books
Indexes: Subject - Author - Date - Names - Places - Art media/styles
Titles: A - B - C - D - E - F - G - H - IJ - KL - M - NO - PQ - R - Sa-Sh - Si-Sz - T - UV - WXYZ
Email: firstname.lastname@example.org - Catalog of art, books, CDs - Behind the Curtain: FAQs, bio, site map - Kindred sites