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There’s a witch in my hair
who hides my spectacles
and one in my neck
who hectors me

The witch in my left arm socket
signals changes in my direction

The witch in my ankle wears armor
and wields a sharpened pike
for daily reenactments
of the Battle of Leuctra
on the side of the Spartans

A collection agency
leaves ominous messages
alluding to bills past due
for the witch in my belly

The witch in my locked skullbox
gazes through mirrored casements
at wavering winds
warbler song
the breath of ghosts
grief’s gritted teeth

An endless sentence
of peine forte et dure
depresses the witch
in my chest

The witch in my right temple
knitted me a tiny carcinoma
out of crushed scarlet velvet

At the corner of Boundary and Main
the witch in my legs lags

The witch in my ears can hardly hear
the complaint of a leak
before fluids escape

What began as an earthworm
wallowing in reddish sludge
the witch in my palms
shaped into a conscience

There is no doubt that certain
witches can do marvelous things
with regard to male organs
according to Heinrich Kramer
15^th-century inquisitor and author
of the Malleus Maleficarum
which explains why the witch
in my snatch is so musical

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