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The Bell Witch
by Deborah S Regangnarled trees crowd closer
blurring the rolling hills
branches scrape a cheek
in her own domain
and all warmth of pulsation
was for this man, claiming
union with the sting of blood
she remembers the daughters
not shared, not of this womb
(wandered the house shrieking)
Bell cursed his only then
words a fire-brand on her scalp
diamond eyes icy with hate
I am one with you
and she would crawl to Satan
if the sting of the frost
would dissipate
and would be crowned
queen of hell
for one, John Bell
01/09/2002 Posted on 01/09/2002
Copyright © 2024 Deborah S Regan
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