The Wicked Witch of the West Inspires Her Muse

[audio link]

A sisterhood of witches?  Please.  Don’t drink
the Kool-Aid—those teenage wiccans weren’t progressive.
They pegged me as that green-skinned thing and Blink!
They forced striped socks on me, the Goth-obsessive.

I fought my nature turning frowns to smiles.
Instead of screaming Fuck! I warbled Bleep!
Exhausted from their never-ending trials,
 I lay in that field of poppies.  It denied me sleep.

So yes, I said I’ll get you, my pretty… and sicked
the flying monkeys on Saint Dorothy’s ass.
I threatened to drown her yappy mutt, then flicked
my broom and torched her Scarecrow’s barnyard grass.

Make her mad, I thought.  Inspire my muse.
I was ready to melt—it was never about the shoes.

—Marybeth Rua-Larsen, Somerset, MA