Two of Spades

Two of Spades

Ethereal light in dark sky
Over old village land
Ghosts of the wisp, incubi
On a fearful bed
does one stand

That she is without sin
She won’t move
to cast a stone
Won’t raise a mere hand
Sin won’t conceive
on its own

She woke with a wound
on her neck
And an overbearing
faintness so weak
In time, her child is born
of the phantom
Without a father is she
No way to hide it
Her offspring
the village shall see

Child of demon
Mother of sin
Spawn of the intrigue
The underworld’s kin

And yet a young woman
She claims innocent
With no Christian sire
as proof
No husband in tent
Goodly crib sitting by her
At night-time she lay
Wide awake she cannot stir
She is incubus prey

Revisit intruder, paternal
Taking her small one away
To feed that order eternal
Spades hunger is borne
in such ways
Over much open time
Of her firstborn no sight
Witchcraft her crime
Townsfolk, the pyre
they light