Covetous of the Covenless
Gossip yields a heavy loss
I cordially invite you, nattering ladies, three
peeking through the ivy-dressed windows
whispering audibly about me.
I’ve two doors, one open for easy entry
wipe your boots, come in,
take a load off those aching ankles
My sofa is double-stuffed, rounded
downey tufts fit for a queen.
🔮💚✨🌿🌙
There there, my dear, you’re in an absolute tizzy
take a dram of cherry cordial.
Neatly tucked into my stocked and labeled pantry
under the beet-dyed cheesecloth, sanguine red
attached with a double length of twine.
Just there, Martha, between the jar of
campfire ash and the tin of cocoa powder.
🔮💚✨🌿🌙
I am well aware of your mission here
on this auspicious day.
I prepared a brief statement for your
gratification, your lust for rumor finally sate.
Just one moment, get comfy while I find my eyes:
🔮💚✨🌿🌙
I have lived my life in quiet contemplation
singing to my many
growing green companions.
The ones you seem so keen to
characterize with malice and
even murderous intent.
🔮💚✨🌿🌙
Why?
Could you possibly be projecting your own
black-hearted malevolence?
A plant rarely strikes at weakened targets,
never takes liberties with its
neighbors’ belongings or garments.
Have you ever seen a vine or shrub waltz
into a home, it had not been summoned
to take up temporary residence in?
Act as though it owned the place?
Snoop through drawers or spread false
rumors of the inhabitants?
🔮💚✨🌿🌙
I thought not.
Now you’ll find I’ve spent the bulk of my
precious time investing in these Sensible pets.
They’re infinitely docile yet endlessly generous
no matter my request.
There’s no use screaming or trying the door.
As you see the windows, you so brazenly
peeked through, are now barred with
leaves and woody stalks
as the floor roils with vines.
Don’t think you’ll get far; my beauties
take direction exceedingly well.
🔮💚✨🌿🌙
So, Martha, Karen, Anna Belle
your questions, accusations
will all be answered now–
🔮💚✨🌿🌙
It’s true, all true AHH HA HA HA!
No amount of howling will bring the dogs
charging to your rescue.
You failed to realize no one’s as nosy as you
three meddling biddys.
🔮💚✨🌿🌙
A witch you called me?
A withered old crone, enchantress,
a hag, I’ve heard it told.
Well, fiddle de dee, I shant disappoint!
Lily, Daphne, girls, seize these three, and
Dump ’em in the brew for my next potion
I think I’ll make essence of Shrew!
Into the cauldron now, bubble away muscle
from bone, the acid and heat will easily flay.
A rich all-natural nutrient slurry poured out in
the soil to feed and nurture, grow my lovelies
lush and pretty.
Your bones will bake until they crack.
Into my mortar and pestle,
bone meal I’ll manufacture and sprinkle
on the lawn out back.
🔮💚✨🌿🌙
Every blade of grass at the old green witch’s shack
delivers a needle-fine prick.
Most of my potions heal and soothe
In fact, I rarely even say a rough word.
The moral of the story?
🔮💚✨🌿🌙
Kindness isn’t blindness.
All disingenuous souls, stay off my lawn!
You’ll never come back.
K.B. Silver
About the Creator
K.B. Silver
K.B. Silver has poems published in magazine Wishbone Words, and lit journals: Sheepshead Review, New Note Poetry, Twisted Vine, Avant Appa[achia, Plants and Poetry, recordings in Stanza Cannon, and pieces in Wingless Dreamer anthologies.


Comments (2)
Oh, this is deliciously dark and fun! Love the contrast between the sweet hospitable invitation and the vengeful twist.
❤️