View the girls
In the mist
the smoke and flames
Of campfire lust
Giggling and whispering…
‘and dust to dust’
But where is she?
The ‘Ann of Cleaves’
Under the clay
Beneath the acrid earth
Her golden braids moistened,
Glisten…
She leaves
And heaves
Who should walk alone?
Along the path
The forbidden road
Of delights we trust
Mislead, indeed
The noose was loose
She did not shudder
Taste the bile from Satan’s udder
Her last thoughts were for her mother
One breathless prayer was for the others
Angelique L. Jenkins
