Halloween Poem: City Witch

She's green, recycling at will.
Lethal with those trendy stockings--
She's been wearing them for ten years and the
incense hangs on them, even amongst the trees.

She's packin' a book of shadows
that she reads in the light
at lunch on the commons by that marble steadfast of a
monument on which are words granting her the
right to do this.

She doesn't wear a pentacle, but
She can make prophecy
because she reads the news, and she's only
Underground because she takes the subway.